“Would you do it? If you could?”
“What?” I respond, aware of what she’s asking, but biding my time wondering if I should tell her the answer.
“Time travel,” she whispers. “Would you partake? Where would you go? Or when, I mean.”
We pass by countless faceless on these city streets every single day. With her, though, less is so much more. She is indelible. Clutching her Coach. Heels CLICK! CLICK! CLICKING! on pavement. A timeless smile advertising her face.
I looked back that fate-filled day. So did she. And here we are – today.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“How could you not?”
Should I tell her the answer? This time? Why the hell not? “Because, I’d probably come looking for you.”
She laughs. I don’t.
“Not probably. Definitely. And that’s the thing. I’d be tempted to find you. To meet you when we were younger. Or when I was younger. Or whatever. Is that how it works? Are there rules? Or do we write our own?”
“No rules,” she says with a contagious giggle.
“But here’s the thing, Time Traveller. We’re here. Now. And as much as I’d want to go back in search of time, more time, or whatever, I’d be afraid maybe I wouldn’t find you. Or if I did find you, maybe I’d fuck it up somehow. I was an idiot back then. When I was younger. I wasn’t the same person. No one is. But we’re here. Right now. I somehow found you amidst the avenues and city streets. And it’s good. Despite the time between us, it’s really good.”
She’s quiet. Silent even. But then, “Hmph. I concur. Now I don’t think I’d go back either.”
“How about forward?”
“Now you’re talking,” she whispers as timelessness overcomes her face in the here and in the now.