The Future of Us

  Then I read my first entry.

  Emma Nelson

  It’s official. As of today, I’ve dropped Rawlings from my name. Isaac may have gotten the dining room set, but I’m taking the couch and my name back. Only now I have to find a home to put it in. (The couch, that is.)

  4 hours ago · Like · Comment

  I lower my head and rub my eyes. It’s been less than a week since Josh gave me that CD-ROM, but have I done anything good with it? Maybe Josh was right and I shouldn’t have gotten rid of Jordan Jones so quickly. Or maybe I should’ve stuck it out with Kevin. It wasn’t perfect, but every couple has hard times. Now I’m married to Isaac Rawlings, and we’re already getting divorced.

  Even if I could reverse everything, I don’t know which life I’d want to go back to. And I’ve caused so many ripples by now, there’s no way to recover any of the exact same futures. If I go to Tampa State, where I was supposed to meet Jordan, I’ll never feel comfortable around him knowing how things once turned out.

  I don’t even want to know where I meet Isaac Rawlings. Once I make up my mind not to marry him, I’ll just wind up in another bad marriage.

  I glance at my Friends category. This time, I only have one hundred and fourteen friends. I scroll down to the Js, but there’s still no Josh.

  I’m scrolling back up through my friends when I see the name Cody Grainger. My heart starts racing. Something did change between us today! In his photo, he’s wearing a sports jacket and tie and his hair is brushed neatly to one side. I click on his name and—

  Cody Grainger

  Getting ready to deliver a lecture in Zurich. That was

  a mighty long flight from Tucson.

  2 hours ago · Like · Comment

  I read through his last several statements. Cody now lives in Arizona. He’s a professor of architecture, specializing in wind and solar energy. He speaks all over the world. Two weeks ago, he visited the White House and spoke before Congress. And best of all, he’s still single.

  In Cody’s last future, he merely worked in this field. Now he’s a leading expert. And it’s because of me! What I told him about architecture today must have jump-started his career. That is too bizarre to even think about.

  Cody doesn’t have any other photos, but on his information page he has a list of random things he likes.

  Spicy Mexican Food, Duke Alum Activities, Drive-In Movies, Guitar, Red Wine, Quoting Wayne’s World

  I wonder if I should add Duke to my list of college choices. That would be cool.

  I can’t believe Cody likes Wayne’s World so much. I went to see that movie with Josh and Tyson a few years ago. Tyson was howling the whole time, popping Junior Mints and shouting at the screen. Josh and I couldn’t believe how stupid it was. We kept ourselves entertained mainly by watching Tyson.

  But if Cody can quote Wayne’s World fifteen years from now, and if I want to move things along with him, I need to get my hands on that movie as soon as possible.

  “Wayne’s World?” asks the woman in the video store. “I just reshelved that ten minutes ago.”

  She points me toward the comedy section. I quickly locate the movie, return to the counter, and hand her my video card.

  “‘It will be mine,’” she says, grinning as she types in my name. “‘Oh yes. It will be mine.’”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?” The woman tips her head. “You haven’t seen Wayne’s World before?”

  “I saw it in the theater, but I didn’t—” Then I get what she’s doing. “You’re quoting from the movie! Was that Wayne or Garth?”

  “Wayne, I think. My boyfriend says it all the time.”

  “He does? So people think that line’s funny?”

  She stares at me like I’m insane. “It’s due back in two days.”

  I thank her and hurry out the door.

  49://Josh

  IN THE SMALL employee break room, Tyson’s dad brings in two paper plates, each with a slice of pepperoni pizza.

  “I know you said you weren’t hungry,” he says, setting a plate next to my history textbook, “but everyone has room for one slice.”

  I like Tyson’s dad. Maybe it’s because he raised Tyson by himself, but he’s more approachable than most fathers. When I showed up an hour ago claiming to need a place to study, he didn’t question me even though no one comes to GoodTimez for peace and quiet. He simply cleared the newspapers from the back table and asked if I wanted anything to eat.

  “Will the TV bother you?” he asks, sitting in a folding chair across from me.

  “No, that’s fine.” I flip a page in my textbook and take a bite of pizza.

  Tyson’s dad leans forward and presses the power button on the TV. Two men appear on CNN, arguing about President Clinton and sex.

  “Weren’t they talking about this the last time I came back here?” Tyson’s dad asks.

  I smile. “I’m sure they’re almost done.”

  After Sydney dropped me off, I tried studying in my living room so I could keep an eye on Emma’s driveway. I don’t want to spend another day getting ignored by her. It’s not fair for either of us. We need to talk about what happened yesterday.

  But then, when Emma did get home from track, I sat frozen on my couch as she walked inside. A short while later, she got back in her car and sped off again. That’s when I grabbed my backpack and skateboard and headed to GoodTimez.

  “What are you studying?” Tyson’s dad asks.

  “Vietnam.” I take another bite of pizza and then rub my fingers on a napkin. “There’s going to be an essay question on the final about the domino theory.”

  “I remember the domino theory,” he says. He watches a few more seconds of the men arguing on TV. “If we don’t stop something bad from happening, it’ll keep spreading until it’s nearly impossible to do anything about it.”

  “I think that’s it.”

  “Even with our ability to look back on that war,” he says, “there’s no way to know for certain what was lost and what was saved. But that’s how it is. History’s a bitch when you’re in the middle of it.”

  Tyson walks in, setting his skateboard against the wall.

  “What’s up, Mr. Mills?” he says, saluting me. “Dad, did you just say ‘history’s a bitch’?”

  “We were talking about Josh’s essay,” his dad says. “Speaking of homework, where the hell have you been?”

  Tyson smiles mischievously. “With a friend. Since when do you track my every move?”

  Tyson’s dad balls up a napkin and chucks it at him. “Just finish your homework, T-bone, and then I need you out on the floor. You can help, too, Josh. Earn your keep.”

  GOODTIMEZ PIZZA has yellow booths and orange tables on one side of the restaurant and an arcade on the other. But in the very center is the reason every kid in Lake Forest wants to have a birthday party here. Three plastic tube-slides—red, blue, and green—spit the kids into a rainbow-colored pool of plastic balls.

  Every few weeks, after the restaurant closes, the pit is emptied so the balls can be sanitized. Tonight, following orders, I stay to help. Tyson squeezes through a vertical strip in the netting around the ball pit and immediately sinks to his knees. He dips a white bucket into the balls and then pushes it back through the netting. I hold open a large black trash bag and Tyson overturns the bucket, letting the balls pour in.

  “So nothing happened today when you were with Sydney?” Tyson asks, scooping up another bucketful of balls. “Maybe you should bring her to lunch tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do to help push things along.”

  The other workers are cleaning tabletops, vacuuming, and emptying tokens from the video games. The music is pumped too high for them to overhear us, but I’m still not comfortable having this conversation.

  “It’s too early,” I say quietly. “We barely know each other.”

  Tyson empties another bucket into my bag. “Dude, she pulled you out of school. I think she wants to know you.”
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  “Maybe.” I set the full trash bag off to the side. “But maybe I’m not ready.”

  Tyson opens the net just enough to ricochet a green ball off my forehead. “Then get ready! We’re talking about Sydney Mills. It’s my dream to be the guy who’s friends with the guy who’s hooking up with her.”

  I shake open a new trash bag. “Wouldn’t you rather be that guy yourself?”

  Tyson thinks about it. “Nope. Too many people talk about you.”

  I pick up the green ball from the floor and drop it into the trash bag. “Not to mention, it looks like you and Kellan are getting back together.”

  Tyson doesn’t respond.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll let Kellan tell Emma about it, if she hasn’t already. But you should be prepared. Emma’s going to want to have a long talk with you about—”

  “About not hurting Kellan, I know.” Tyson leans his back against the cushioned border of the ball pit. We’ve emptied enough so that his knees stick up like two islands in front of his chest. He looks at me through the netting. “I would never want Kellan to get hurt. Last time, I just wasn’t ready.”

  “But you can understand why Emma’s worried,” I say. “The last time you two broke up, Kellan flipped.”

  Tyson picks up a red ball and sidearm pitches it into the blue slide. It rolls to the top, and then falls back into the pit.

  “We like each other,” he finally says. “And we’ve both done a lot of thinking this year. I don’t know what else we’re supposed to do.”

  There’s nothing I can tell him. Tyson is struggling with whether or not to let himself fall for someone he’s already fallen for. My situation is different. I’m supposed to be falling for Sydney, and everything appears to be lining up for that to happen. But when I think about my future, I’m not sure that’s where I want it to go.

  THE PORCH LIGHT is on when I get home. I set my skateboard against the front door and reach into my pocket for the key. I can hear my parents talking to each other inside. They probably won’t say a word to me when I go in, but Dad will glance at his watch, letting me know I cut it close.

  Emma’s house is mostly dark. The outside lights are off, as are the lights upstairs. From within the downstairs living room there’s a faint blue glow.

  I walk across the lawn between our houses, listening to the chimes on Emma’s front porch. When Martin first hung them up, Emma complained that even his noises were infiltrating her life.

  Stepping softly, I approach their living room window. In the center of the room, Emma is asleep on the couch, her head cushioned against the armrest. She’s facing the TV, but it’s angled so I can’t tell what she was watching.

  I miss Emma. Even if we didn’t say anything to each other, even if she remained asleep, I wish I could be sitting on that couch with her right now.

  friday

  50://Emma

  “EMMA?” my mom calls from downstairs.

  I glance at my alarm clock. It’s not set to go off for another ten minutes.

  “Emma!”

  I groan and pull the covers over my head. I fell asleep on the couch last night, and finally stumbled to my room at two in the morning. When I got upstairs, I noticed the light was on in Josh’s bathroom. He takes showers in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep. I considered blinking my light a few times. If he blinked back, I would have held a note to my window like when we were kids. But I decided not to bother him. Josh doesn’t want to hear from me. He spent the afternoon with Sydney, taking their first steps toward a future together.

  My mom’s sandals click on the stairs, and I scan my tired brain for what I could’ve done to piss her off. I didn’t see her at all last night. She and Martin were buying cabinetry out in Pittsburgh. I ate dinner and stacked my plate and glass in the dishwasher. I even wiped down the counter before watching Wayne’s World.

  My mom is wearing a yellow dress and her hair is pulled back with a matching headband. She’s frowning, and holding up a black videocassette.

  “Wayne’s World, Emma?”

  I rub the shoulder I was sleeping on. “Is that why you woke me up?”

  “No.” She flashes a different video in her other hand.

  “This is why I woke you up.”

  I grab a scrunchie from my nightstand and pull my hair into a ponytail. “Can you be more specific?”

  “You ejected our blank tape to watch Wayne’s World,” my mom says, pressing her lips tight.

  I shrug. Maybe I ejected a tape. I can’t remember.

  “We were taping Seinfeld,” she says. “We had it programmed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We tape it every Thursday, Emma. You know that.” She looks at the ocean poster tacked above my desk, and then back at me. “Martin and I are concerned about your lack of respect for this house.”

  I sit up. “Lack of respect? What are you talking about?”

  She points to the floor by my dresser. “Martin noticed that stain right there. Emma, we just put in new carpeting. How did you already spill something on it?”

  I do not want to talk about that. Spilling the vase water was a dumb thing to do, but it wasn’t the stupidest thing I did that afternoon.

  “I tried cleaning it,” I say.

  “You should have asked us for help. We have products that lift stains—”

  Wait a second! “What was Martin doing in my room?”

  My mom sighs. “He was just measuring with the contractor.”

  I leap out of bed and tug my shirt down over my hips. I’m not in the mood to fight, especially after the arguments with Josh and my dad, but I can’t leave this one unchecked.

  “It’s for his office,” she adds. “But that’s not until after you graduate.”

  “This is crazy!” I say, my pulse racing. I hold my hands near my eyes, almost as blinders. “This has been my room for sixteen years and it’s still my room. Maybe Martin has designs to turn it into his office someday, but he does not have my permission to enter whenever he wants.”

  My mom sets both videos on top of my dresser.

  “I’m sorry about Seinfeld,” I say, opening a drawer and pulling out a green T-shirt and jean shorts. “I’ll call around to see if anyone taped it. But you have to tell Martin to stop plotting his takeover.”

  My mom looks into the distance like she’s fending off tears. “It’s been an adjustment for all of us,” she says quietly.

  I consider telling her it was an adjustment when she and my dad divorced, and her brief marriage to Erik was another adjustment. I’m tired of adjustments.

  “Just tell Martin to stay out of my room,” I say.

  Relationship Status It’s Complicated

  That’s my future this morning. It doesn’t say I’m married. It doesn’t say I’m single. Now I’m a graduate of San Diego State and I live in Oakland, California.

  The last thing I wrote was on Wednesday.

  Emma Nelson

  Hoping it doesn’t rain this weekend.

  May 18 at 6:44pm · Like · Comment

  My photo is black and white, almost a silhouette. I’m playing the saxophone in front of an open window, and my hair is shoulder-length.

  I click open my list of Friends and start scrolling down. Cody is there. He’s wearing a different tie, but he looks basically the same as yesterday. I scroll down to the Js, but there’s still no Josh.

  I click back to my main page. I just wrote something twelve seconds ago!

  Emma Nelson

  I’m doing some emotional housekeeping and letting go of things I’ve held onto for too long. Starting with my password. I’ve used the same one for fifteen years. Just waiting for a new word to reveal itself.

  12 seconds ago · Like · Comment

  I’m getting rid of Millicent?

  Clarence and Millicent represent everything good about my friendship with Josh. And now I want to let go of that? Did I ruin our friendship forever all because I kissed him? Or is it because I didn??
?t have a clear answer when he asked why I kissed him?

  Hang on! I can’t change my password. That’s how I’ve been able to log on to Facebook. And I need to be able to get onto Facebook. My relationship is complicated now. There’s no mention of a career. Even though I’m not telling much, I imagine at some point I’ll start revealing again. If I can’t learn the details of my life, then I won’t have a chance to repair things.

  “Emma!” my mom calls, startling me. “Martin needs to make a work call. Can you sign off now?”

  “No, I—”

  “This is what we were talking about,” she warns. “We’re getting another phone line soon, just for the Internet. But for now, you need to quit.”

  As I close my screen, I think about that photo of Kellan, Tyson, Josh, and me at GoodTimez that I tore up the other day. I hurry over to my trashcan, hoping Martin didn’t empty it when he was in here. And there, underneath several crumpled tissues, are the jagged pieces of the photograph. I pick them out of the garbage, one by one, and cup them in my palm.

  Maybe Josh and I aren’t going to be friends in the future, but I can’t throw away these memories. I open my top drawer, slide the pieces of the photo into my journal, and then close my dresser again.

  51://Josh

  IT’S SENIOR SKIP DAY. With a quarter of the students gone, the hallways feel uncomfortably wide and open. They’re also quieter, making it too easy to get lost in my thoughts.

  As I walk to third period, I slide my shoulder against the locker doors and think about time. If I could, I’d travel back six months to the night I tried to kiss Emma, and I wouldn’t do it. She would still hug my arm for warmth as we walked through the cemetery, but when we got back to her car with Tyson and Kellan, there would be no awkwardness between us. If I couldn’t go back that far, I’d return to Emma’s porch the day she set up her new computer, and I wouldn’t give her that CD-ROM. Then she never would’ve discovered Facebook. While we still wouldn’t be as close as we once were, at least we’d be talking.