He shrugs. “I have no idea. I would think so. But it’s not like there’s anyone I can ask. I’ve never met anyone else like me. Not that I would necessarily know.”
I don’t always get along with my parents, but I am still glad they’re around.
I think he’s going to tell me more about not having parents, about not having roots. But he surprises me.
“I’ve glimpsed things,” he says.
I expect him to say more. To tell me what this means, what he’s seen. But I have to remember: He’s new at this. He’s still very unsure.
“Go on,” I prompt.
Permission. He smiles, happy for it. I want to hug him, if only for that smile. “It’s just—I know it sounds like an awful way to live, but I’ve seen so many things. It’s so hard when you’re in one body to get a sense of what life is really like. You’re so grounded in who you are. But when who you are changes every day—you get to touch the universal more. Even the most mundane details. You see how cherries taste different to different people. Blue looks different. You see all the strange rituals boys have to show affection without admitting it. You learn that if a parent reads to you at the end of the day, it’s a good sign that it’s a good parent, because you’ve seen so many other parents who don’t make the time. You learn how much a day is truly worth, because they’re all so different. If you ask most people what the difference was between Monday and Tuesday, they might tell you what they had for dinner each night. Not me. By seeing the world from so many angles, I get more of a sense of its dimensionality.”
“But you never get to see things over time, do you?” I ask. “I don’t mean to cancel out what you just said. I think I understand that. But you’ve never had a friend that you’ve known day in and day out for ten years. You’ve never wat
ched a pet grow older. You’ve never seen how messed up a parent’s love can be over time. And you’ve never been in a relationship for more than a day, not to mention for more than a year.”
“But I’ve seen things,” he says. “I’ve observed. I know how it works.”
“From the outside?” I’m really trying to get my mind around this, but it’s hard. Blue looks different. “I don’t think you can know from the outside.”
“I think you underestimate how predictable some things can be in a relationship.”
I should’ve known we’d get here. I should’ve known this would come up. He met me as Justin, after all. He knows the deal. Or thinks he does.
I need to make it clear. “I love him,” I say. “I know you don’t understand, but I do.”
“You shouldn’t. I’ve seen him from the inside. I know.”
“For a day,” I point out. “You saw him for a day.”
“And for a day, you saw who he could be. You fell more in love with him when he was me.”
This is very hard to hear. I don’t know if it’s true or not. If you’d asked me yesterday, maybe yes. If you ask me now, after Girl Scout cookies, maybe no.
He goes for my hand. But I can’t do it. It’s committing too much. “No,” I say. “Don’t.”
He doesn’t.
“I have a boyfriend,” I go on. “I know you don’t like him, and I’m sure there are moments when I don’t like him, either. But that’s the reality. Now, I’ll admit, you have me actually thinking that you are, in fact, the same person who I’ve now met in five different bodies. All this means is that I’m probably as insane as you are. I know you say you love me, but you don’t really know me. You’ve known me a week. And I need a little more than that.”
“But didn’t you feel it that day? On the beach? Didn’t everything seem right?”
Yes. Everything within me jumps to that one word: yes. It did seem right. But that was feeling. All feeling. I still cannot speak to any fact.
But I cannot withhold my answer, either. So I tell him, “Yes. But I don’t know who I was feeling that for. Even if I believe it was you, you have to understand that my history with Justin plays into it. I wouldn’t have felt that way with a stranger. It wouldn’t have been so perfect.”
“How do you know?”
“That’s my point. I don’t.”
I shouldn’t have left Justin. I shouldn’t have made an excuse to go. This is too dangerous, because none of it can be fact.
I look down at my phone. I haven’t been here long, but it’s getting close to too long.
“I have to make it back for dinner,” I tell him. Technically correct. If I want to get back in time, I should be leaving now.
I’m thinking he’ll put up a fight. Justin would put up a fight. He’d make it clear he wanted me to stay.