Parallel Universe

In a universe very, very close to this one, we are together. In the trillions upon trillions of universes extending outwards, the one where we are together is only separated from this one by several decisions, mostly made early in her life. My life is mostly the same. At this point, I’m jaded and a bit wary about love, and I watch dubiously as this spirited girl begins to steal into my heart.

The difference is that, in that universe, she watches me curiously back from across the room. Her stormy eyes are clouded with all of the possibilities as she weighs them, and at night she lies on her bed and allows herself to think, what if?

In that universe, the little comments that people make about us, the way she is so easy with me make her stop and think. She puffs out a breath and thinks, “I don’t want any of them, those far off lovers who are obscure and powerful, tinged with unreality and desirable with distance. I want this girl right here next to me. I want her to stay by my side, I want to hold her at night as we fall asleep with our cats snuggled up beside us.” In that universe, that is what she thinks.

The thing is, I don’t live in that universe. I live about five universes to the left of it, maybe a bit more diagonal, where I am the same, but she is much more steadfast and steely-eyed, determined to stick to the path she knows. Her past has closed her mind to any possibility that she could love me. She watches me indifferently at the beginning of the year, and as we grow closer, she keeps the blinders carefully fixed around her thoughts of me. They must not wander past what she has deemed acceptable.

In this universe, she takes me for a drive in her vintage car as the sun is setting, and I laugh when she steps on the gas and the car surges beneath us, so powerful I imagine it will leap to the stars, pin us up as a new constellation. Beneath the streetlights flying past us overhead, the midnight-blue paint of the car sparkles like it’s brand-new, new as my heart feels pounding in my chest.

I look over and she smiles her characteristic crooked grin, and my heart jumps into my throat. The sun is setting just over her left shoulder in a final blaze of glory, shedding its colors like brilliant dresses, stepping elegantly into a waiting bath of swirling stars. In the small, circular side mirror of the car, I can see the purples and pinks and golds mixing together like a palette of bleeding watercolors in the distance. Her black hair is haloed in a fine outline of gold, and I think sadly how beautiful she looks and how I will never be able to tell her.

In the next universe over, we pull back into the farm, drive past the horses watching us knowingly as the moonlight bathes their coats in silver, turning them to ghosts. We park the car, and she walks around to my side and helps me out. We go down to the lake and sit side by side on the dock, our feet crossed beneath us as I gently guide her hand to point out the constellations spiraling above us. In that universe, she turns to look at me, and I can see the stars in her eyes, but not Polaris, the storms in her gaze are too wild for that and-

In my universe, as we sit on the dock over the void of the lake, she gazes up in wonder at the stars and then turns to grin triumphantly at me as she finds Ursa Major captive beneath her fingertip. Of course, I want to tell her. Of course. And then, It’s yours. That bear would curl up beside you like a cat and let you stroke its fur of its own accord, but if it didn’t, I would bring it down for you. I would tame it, even as its eyes spit starfire and its claws open universes, if only I could hold you for the span of a heartbeat, if only-

I think all of these things as I roll my eyes at her and climb back in the truck beside her. I think these things, but I do not tell them to her because she has sworn me off, and maybe I love her, I don’t know, but I do know I will never hurt her.

On a pier in this universe, two figures lie suspended in time, basking in the summer sunshine. The tide is perpetually coming in and the sea foam sprays up over their legs. In this moment, I look in her sea-green eyes and she laughs, and I realize that here, in this universe, she will never love me, even as, a few decisions and occurrences to the left, she does.