It's a bizarre feeling, waking up running.
And not just running: yelling and waving your arms in the air. The bus is pulling away from the curb.
The last person off the bus sees you, turns quickly, and smacks the bus door with the heel of his hand. With a hiss, the bus stops and the doors fly open.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" comes the bus driver's voice from inside.
The man points in your direction but you're already zipping past him. "Good deed for the day," you manage to pant out as you climb up the bus stairs.
The driver glares at you as you pay your fare. You'd feel more guilty, but he looks like the kind of person who glares regularly just as a matter of course.
The bus lurches forward again, throwing you into one of the seats – fortunately empty.
You give yourself a few minutes to get your heart and breathing calm and then pull out your phone.
The date on the lock screen tells you that this late March. It's fortunate that you've used only two PIN numbers on any phone you've owned; the second one works. Checking your calendar, you see that it's your senior year at college: you've just come from your Introduction to Constitutional Law class and you're on your way to –
You do a double-take. La Rose d'Or? That's one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. You've heard of it, of course, but you never had any interest of ever eating there.
In your own history, you remind yourself. Maybe in this history you eat there all the time.
Even so, as you put your phone away you heave a sigh of relief. Seems as if the rabbit's foot is giving you a break this time – a chance to plan things out before you….
Your hand has drifted down to your coat pocket. There's a large cube in it.
You pull it out to find a black jewelry box. Inside is a gold band with a single small diamond.
You can hardly contain your excitement. This must be it you think to yourself. If I can get her to say "Yes" then everything should go back to normal. "Whatever normal was," you add out loud, under your breath.
Your heart is pounding as you climb down from the bus into the sharp evening air. You're as excited as you imagine you'd be if you actually knew the person you were about to propose to.
La Rose d'Or is long and narrow. You have to worm your way between tables until you finally spot Inez towards the back. She looks distracted, staring off into space. You take the moment to get a good look at her. Pretty, tall, angular. It gives her an air of elegance, of royalty. Pretty face. Sharp, intelligent eyes. And that every-present impish smile.
Whatever thought she's lost in, she comes alive again as you sit down across from her. "Sorry I'm late," you say as you hang your coat on the back of your chair.
"I've been here only a few minutes myself."
You sit, reaching for a menu. "Let's get started, then."
Her hand settles on yours. "Can you wait a second? I have some news."
"Uh oh."
She quickly shakes her head, swallowing hard. "No, no – good news. I got into Stanford."
You freeze. "What does that mean?"
"They gave me a teaching assistantship too, which means no tuition and a little pocket money besides."
You can feel a small tug of gravity from the jewel box, in the pocket of your coat hanging off the back of your chair. "'What does it mean about us?' I meant."
Her eyes narrow. "It's only for a year – two tops. And then I can move right back here."
"A long distance relationship."
"I think it might be a good chance for us to take a break," she says. "You know: 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'"
"Not in my experience, no," you tell her coldly.
"If we're truly committed to one another, a year won't make a difference." She scoops up her own menu from the table and flips it open. "We've got all spring and summer to figure this out." She busies herself scanning the menu pages, not meeting your eye. "Right now, I just want to celebrate Stanford."
"Of course," you tell her, forcing a light tone into your voice. "And now the thing I should have said right off: congratulations."
While she never looks up from the menu, she lifts her chin half an inch. "Thank you."
You quickly turn the subject to lighter topics, faking your way through the personal stuff and trying to steer towards more general conversation. But it quickly becomes clear that there won't be any chance you'll be pulling that jewel box out of your coat pocket any time soon.
You can:
. . . or you can:
use the house key to go back to the day you and Inez first met.
pull out Inez’s note to try your hand at solving the puzzle.