Page 24 of You've Found Oliver

I wake up in my dorm again. I lie there for a moment, allowing the room to come into focus.

How did I get back here? I remember falling asleep in Ben’s bed, our arms wrapped around each other.

I wonder if he’s noticed I’m gone yet. I hate that I keep disappearing on him.

Especially after such a special night. I can still feel his lips pressed against mine.

Then I look around for my phone. There’s a message from him.

Where did you disappear to again?

Please text me when you get this

I respond right away.

Hey!

Sorry

I woke up in Ellensburg again

But I’m okay!

He responds a few seconds later.

I was waiting to hear from you

Glad you’re okay

I don’t know how that keeps happening

So you don’t remember leaving?

Not at all! I honestly have no clue how I got back

I just woke up in my bed again

It seems like this always happens after you fall asleep

That’s so weird

yeah I know

At least we got to spend some time together

I take a deep breath and let it out. Maybe we should focus on the good.

Thanks for letting me stay over again

I had a great night

Me too

But I was hoping you’d stay longer this time

Was planning to cook French toast for breakfast this morning. Had all the ingredients and everything

Ugh that sounds really good

Sorry to disappoint you

Hopefully it won’t always be this way

Its ok

Will save it for another day

I hadn’t truly considered this. The thought of never being able to wake up with him.

See his face in the morning light. Sit down and have breakfast together.

Are those things we’ll never get to share?

I remember thinking how hard a long-distance relationship would be.

Now we’ve found ourselves in different timelines.

I still can’t wrap my head around any of this.

But I’m missing you already

I miss you too

I lie down and hold the phone close to me.

Maybe it doesn’t matter how or why this is happening.

There’s a world out there where we’re still strangers.

I’m just happy we found each other in this strange glitch in the universe.

All that matters is Ben and I have each other. Even if it’s only momentary.

Flowers are blooming outside. You become more aware of the seasons when you’re moving between them.

I imagine leaves falling wherever Ben is right now.

It’s an odd feeling, walking through the same world, experiencing something different.

Does that mean there’s another version of him here, doing something else?

Would he even know who I am? I think about this as I head to the library.

Thankfully, Rami is back this week. We spend the first hour catching up on everything.

“How was your trip?” I ask him.

Rami sips his coffee and says, “Honestly, exhausting. We were craving Mexican food but couldn’t find anything good.

But what do you expect from Canada ?” He was in Vancouver for the weekend with the chess club.

“My friend Maki had a great time though. Except the part where he got robbed. There are pickpockets everywhere these days.”

“Oh god, what did they take?”

Rami waves it off. “Don’t worry, he’s broke.

And I’m honestly glad he lost that hideous thing he called a bag.

Must have had five dollars in there at most, which he owed me .

Should have taken his shirt while they were at it.

Who still wears tie-dye these days?” Rami pretends to shiver at the thought.

“Anyway, enough about that. What about you? Are you still talking to that Ben guy?”

“Of course I am. I stayed at his place last night.”

“Oh. Does that mean it’s serious?”

“I don’t know about serious . But we definitely like each other a lot.”

“Then why aren’t you exclusive? Hasn’t it been a month now?”

I lean back in the chair and say, “It’s complicated. I mean, he lives over a hundred miles away.” Obviously, I don’t tell him the other reason.

“Hmm. So he wants to be open,” Rami assumes.

“That’s not what I said! The distance is just”—I pause, wondering how to phrase this—“ more than I thought , okay?”

Rami nods. “That can be a deal-breaker for most people. I don’t know of any long-distance relationship that’s actually worked—”

I hold up a hand. “That’s not why I told you, Rami. You’re supposed to reassure me that everything is going to be okay.”

“Oh, right ,” he corrects himself. “What I meant to say was that some distance could be good for you. Look at John and Savannah.”

“Who are John and Savannah?”

“From Dear John ?” He rolls his eyes as if I should know that. “It’s such a good movie. He goes off to war for two years and they never stop sending each other letters.”

“What happens in the end?”

“It’s actually been a while since I’ve seen it,” he says, scratching his head. “I think he dies of cancer and she marries someone else…You know what, maybe I’m thinking of The Notebook . Or do they both die in that, too?”

“Rami, those are terrible examples.”

He frowns. “Sorry. I’m dyslexic.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

I decide to end the conversation there. At least his heart is in the right place. The library is starting to get busy anyway. Rami and I have to get back to work. Of course, I don’t stop thinking about Ben. I know things will work out for us.

It’s another long week of classes. But I can’t seem to focus on anything.

I just stare out the windows, wondering when we’ll see each other again.

I wish I could just hop on the next bus to Seattle.

But I’m falling behind on my schoolwork, which includes a history paper I haven’t even started yet.

And I just got an email about fall classes; registration is opening up soon.

I haven’t even finished this quarter yet.

How am I supposed to know what to take next year?

I wish I didn’t have to think about this right now.

I’m still trying to figure out what’s been happening between me and Ben.

I’ve started searching online for similar stories.

Forums or articles that might explain how our timelines seem to have crossed.

I haven’t found anything helpful, just sci-fi references.

There’s one movie, Sliding Doors , that I’ve watched with my mom.

It’s about a woman who nearly misses the train, creating two versions of herself: one where she gets on the train and another where she misses it.

I wonder if things like this happen all the time. The decisions we make create alternate timelines with different versions of ourselves. Of course, that’s just a movie, but maybe something I did connected me to Ben. There has to be an answer out there somewhere.

Thankfully, the week always ends with Professor Clarke’s class. It’s the only class I never consider skipping. And it’s not just because she’s Julie’s mom. There’s another quote on the board when I walk into the room.

“Memories are motionless, and the more securely they are fixed in space, the sounder they are.” —Gaston Bachelard

For some reason, the desks are arranged differently today. They’re spread out in no particular order. Professor Clarke must notice our confusion. “You may take a seat anywhere,” she says. “Feel free to move the desks around or sit on the floor, if you’d like. Or you could stand. I won’t stop you.”

I take a seat somewhere in the middle of the room. Usually, Professor Clarke teaches at the front of the classroom. But today, she is standing by the opened windows, forcing some of us to turn our chairs around.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re sitting this way today,” she continues.

“My question back to you would be, why did you sit the way you were before? After all, I never gave assigned seating in this class. I also never said you couldn’t move things around.

You simply walked in and sat down in the same spot every day.

” She points at someone standing by the corner.

“Ryan, why did you choose to stand today?”

He shrugs. “Been sitting all day. My legs are kinda sore.”

“I imagine that happens a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You never thought to stand before?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

Professor Clarke points to someone else. “Sierra, why have you never moved your desk around?”

“I don’t know,” she says timidly. “I didn’t really think about it.”

Professor Clarke takes this in and says, “I’m sure this seems insignificant. The way we arrange ourselves in a classroom. But this course is about questioning everything , which includes things you never once thought to question. Let’s keep this in mind as we move on to today’s discussion.”

She steps toward the chalkboard. “Memories are motionless…” As usual, she lets the words sink in. “Some of you have encountered this passage in the text already. Admittedly, this is a bit of a tricky one, so I thought we might use this time to read between the lines together.

“According to Bachelard, memories are fixed to the locations in which they are made, like the homes we’ve previously discussed.

Just like a scent can conjure a memory, so can a particular hallway or room when you walk through it.

Have you ever forgotten something only to have it all come flooding back to you when you glance at a photograph?

Every room, in every building, including this one, has memories of its own.

Ones that have existed since long before any of you, or myself, stepped foot in here,” she says.

“That is one way for us to interpret his use of motionless . Memories are anchored in space. However, when it comes to time, our sense of memory is never fixed.” Her eyes scan the room.

“After all, you can’t imagine time the same way you can visualize a room, can you?

What would that look like if you tried? The moving hands of a clock?

Images passing through a film reel? We all experience it differently.

That’s because time is never constant, but always in motion .

“Think about that for a moment. Why do certain things that happened years ago feel like yesterday? Why do some days feel longer than others? How do we recall some memories instantly, regardless of when they happened? If the past is constantly merging with the present, maybe time shouldn’t be represented on a single line, as we often regard it.

Maybe time is an infinite number of lines that we can access at any moment, likes stars in the sky. ”

Professor Clarke picks up a piece of chalk from the board.

“We’ve been working as a class these past few weeks.

For today’s activity, we’re going to do something different.

I would like you to write about a memory from your life.

You will not be turning this in to me. This is something I want you to write for yourself.

Think back to the corners of the room where you sat alone.

After all, it’s the moments of solitude when we can access our full imagination. ”

She writes down a few more things on the board.

Then she hands out blank paper. A few people move their desks to the windows.

I take out a pen and think about what to write.

My mind goes back to the home, since that’s what we’ve been focusing on.

Memories are anchored in space. Maybe that’s why I struggle with these assignments.

Because I’ve blocked so much out. But a home can be made anywhere, right?

Like the places I’ve known all my life. I have memories attached to every inch of Ellensburg.

Of course, a lot of these were with Sam.

The two of us sitting by the lake together.

Watching the sunset on our walk home. Riding our bikes around the neighborhood.

Maybe that’s why I don’t want to move away.

Because I can still feel his presence everywhere.

I don’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, but I remember what movie we watched on his couch when we were snowed in that winter.

Or the time he carried me on his back when I hurt my knee playing soccer.

Whatever broken home I inhabited, at least he was a part of it.

He was always there for me. The only place left to see him is in my dreams. But I keep waking up from them.

Maybe if I went back more than six months—maybe I could have saved you.

I continue writing until the end of class. Then I tuck the paper into my bag and head out.

It’s raining a little tonight. Mom texted me a few hours ago, asking if I wanted to come home for dinner. She’s been sick for almost a week now but seems to be feeling a lot better today.

We make orange chicken and broccoli, which I might have slightly burned. Mom says it gives it a “nice char.” At least the rice is cooked perfectly. Of course, she serves the food on the ceramic plate we made. She’s been wanting to take another pottery class together.

“I can look into it tomorrow,” I say.

“Are your classes going well?”

“They’re fine. Just a lot of catching up to do.” I take a bite.

“And how was your trip to Seattle? I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“It was fun,” I say casually. “They had this really big street fair. You know, played some games, had some corn dogs.”

“Which friends did you go with?”

“His name is Ben.”

“Ben…” She repeats his name. “Don’t know if you’ve mentioned him before.”

I take another bite. “He actually lives in Seattle. I was visiting him.”

“How do you two know each other?”

“He’s a new friend. But we’ve been chatting for a while.”

“It’s quite the commute to meet someone, don’t you think?”

“It’s not the first time we met,” I explain. “He’s visited me, too. I showed him around Ellensburg. He goes to the University of Washington. He’s a first year like I am. He studies astronomy.”

“Well, that’s a very good school.”

“Yeah, he’s really smart,” I tell her. “He’s really into space and stuff. For his graduation gift, he picked out a telescope. Isn’t that funny?”

Mom nods with approval. “Sounds like a refined young man. Hopefully, I’ll get to meet him one day.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

I don’t say anything else because I’m realizing that might never happen: the two of them being in the same room together. The thought of this breaks my heart a little. So I push it out of my mind.

At least Ben and I can see each other. For now, that’s all that matters to me.