Chapter 10 Faithful Like A Good Doggy

Yesterday feels like such a long time ago.

The hospital with Callum's hand on the small of my back. Old Sera would have been ecstatic at it so I guess that’s probably why he did that rubbish. A treat to be as faithful like a good doggy.

Grey eyed jerk who thinks his paying my hospital bills probably places him above everyone in my life. His only likable feature has to be Callum re-arranging himself at the level of power which follows his presence.

But those eyes?

I haven't thought about that.

I haven’t thought about it at all.

My phone buzzes on the counter.

I pick it up.

(Bestie) Elise : Can you meet me at Clover & Co on fifth? The coffee place with the green door, you know the one. something came up, and I need to see you asap, it's kind of urgent xx.

I read it twice.

Clover & Co. Green door on Fifth Avenue. I remember it, a small place with great overpriced coffee, the kind of spot Elise would absolutely pick for an urgent conversation because it has corner seats and nobody pays attention to anyone else.

I type back immediately.

Me:   everything okay?? 

Elise: yes just come, I'll explain when you get here, don't be long. xx 

I look at the message.

Elise always texts like this. Her ability to easily switch between urgency and lowercase with double kisses at the end of messages that range from I found the perfect pair of boots to my landlord is being insane with equal levels of stated emergency. This is completely normal Elise behaviour. I have received approximately four hundred messages in this exact register over the course of our friendship.

Besides, nothing happened on this Tuesday in my past life.

I don’t remember this Tuesday, because it was most likely ordinary, completely ordinary, the kind of day that leaves no impression. I spent it probably chasing Callum and fighting hard with tons of other girls for him to notice me. He didn’t.

No Elise emergency, but that's probably because in my past life I didn't go to lunch with her yesterday and re-establish the texture of our friendship and give her a reason to text me today.

See. It is completely explainable.

I am overthinking Elise’s meetup.

But, I can’t help thinking that something doesn’t add up.

"Mum," I call through the back door. "I'm heading out."

She looks up from trimming her roses. "Where?"

"Meeting Elise."

"Again?" She tilts her head. "You saw her yesterday."

"She says it's urgent."

My mother gives the roses a look that suggests she finds Elise's sense of urgency somewhat theatrical. "Will you be back in time for dinner?"

"Should be." I grab my jacket from the hook. "Do you need anything while I'm out?"

"If you pass that bakery on Clement Street ..."

I interrupt, "The sourdough?"

"The sourdough." She points her pruning shears at me. "And don't let them give you the end loaf. Your father always takes the end loaf and then complains about it for three days."

I laugh, "I'll guard against the end loaf."

"Good girl." She goes back to her roses. "Give Elise my love."

--------------

Clover & Co is exactly as I pictured it.

Green door with small ringing bells that indicate my presence as I walk in. Warm light pushes through the window onto the pavement with the smell of coffee reaching me as I take a step further.

Inside is small and warm and full of the comfortable noise of a coffee shop on a weekday afternoon, the hiss of a machine, low music, two people at a laptop sharing earphones, a man at the counter deliberating over a menu he has clearly been studying for too long by the evil expression thrown to him by the woman at his back on the queue.

I scan the room for Elise humming Sound of Music.

'Corner seats, she said corner seats.'

Left corner -- a woman with a pushchair with a phone in her hand.

Right corner -- empty.

I frown and open my messaging app. No new messages.

My fingers fly over my phone with the speed of a cheetah ……

'I'm here, where are you?'

…. and hover near the door because Elise is famously, consistently, almost impressively late and she probably left her flat four minutes ago and is currently power walking up Fifth telling herself she's basically there.

I tilt my head toward the back of the shop where the announcement board is wondering if the position for a barista is still open and if I should apply. I need a job.

My eyes fall on a woman appearing from the back of the shop.

She’s not dressed like a server or one of the baristas either. She comes from the corridor near the bathrooms, the part of the shop that sits behind a half-wall and catches no street light, and she looks terribly familiar.

A coat that costs more than Elise’s $4500 monthly rent. Ice-blonde hair frames her pale, striking face. Her cheeks lie flat against her face and her boobs are much smaller, but there’s no denying the one who kept me company on my last day on Earth.

Nadia Voss!.

I guess she got a Boob job later in life.

But, this didn't happen.

I would certainly remember this, Nadia was Callum’s proclaimed first love but he never said anything about her and she never approached me, so when he even introduced her after winning youngest Executive Director, I congratulated myself for winning.

After all, I had the man. 

But I've already changed things, says a quieter part of my brain, in a voice that sounds unfamiliar like common sense. I got into an accident, called Callum at the hospital, went to lunch with Elise yesterday. I exist differently in this timeline than you did in the last one and different causes make different effects and I knew that, but walked in here anyway because you decided you were powerfully informed m… 

Dang it! For a girl who doesn’t know to exact revenge even when the odds were in her favour, how will I handle this aristotle time difference crap changes?

"Sera Calloway." Nadia's voice is smooth causing me to bristle with anger. "Sit down."

Her last words to me burn in my throat.

‘You smell like a kitchen darling. You smell like someone’s housekeeper.’

"Where's Elise?" My voice comes out sharp.

"Elise is fine." She tilts her head . "Sit down, please. I won't ask again."

She is already seated, one leg crossed over the other, regarding me with the expression of a woman who has done something like this before and found it tedious but necessary.

"You should have stayed unmemorable," she says pleasantly. "That's all you had to do. Just be nobody. Be the girl who walked into a car and went home and stayed there."

She examines her nails briefly. "But Callum mentioned you twice in one conversation. Do you know what that means?"