Here I Go Again: A Novel (26 page)

“Then no.”

“Wait! I didn’t say that!” I protest.

Maybe I thought it, but I didn’t say it.

“Clearly, Lissy Ryder, you’re in love with the control, not the man, and that’s not fair to either of you. It’s best you understand this now.”

“Hold on, sister! You’re putting words in my mouth!”

Deva helps herself to one of my untouched French toast sticks. She takes a bite and practically purrs. “Am I? Seems to me that if you were truly, madly, deeply in love, you’d not hesitate to have told me. Proclaiming your love for him would be as natural as breathing. Yet the first place you go is
winning
? That’s not love, Lissy Ryder. Not by a long shot.”

I’d argue but the shameful truth is, she’s not wrong.

Didn’t I want to change the past at first just so I could dump him on my terms? Our relationship was always about winning, my winning.

Now that I think about it, I didn’t start dating him because I thought he was funny or nice or hot. I doggedly pursued him because I heard Elyse liked him and I was not about to let her have anything that should have rightfully been mine.

Whether or not I actually wanted him was beside the point.

I was aggressive; she was demure. I won.

Oh, Duke or Martin or however you want to be addressed, because I never really bothered to ask—I’ve done you a terrible, terrible disservice.

“You’re saying I should let him go.”

Deva chews, swallows, and shrugs. “I’ve not said anything, Lissy Ryder. All I suggest is that you examine the construct of your relationship. Is the foundation of your love built on sand or is it built on rock?”

As I reflect on our twenty-plus-year history, both in the first past and the present, I’m hit with a terrible realization. . . . The only thing we actually ever had in common was love.

More specifically, we were both in love with me. And that’s not nearly enough. This realization is way too deep for this early in the morning.

“Do you mind if I cry for a while?” I ask.

“Knock yourself out, Lissy Ryder.”

But I try and the tears won’t come. Instead, I’m flooded with guilt because I don’t have the depth of feeling for Duke that he deserves. Was the homecoming dance something special for us? Absolutely. But that’s it. I think I was more swept up in all the events leading up to the dance than in actually being with him.

And I don’t dare say this out loud, but I think I’m in love with my handbag more than my husband.

As I can’t even properly cry for him, my only choice is to let him go without a fight. Were I to fight, it would be only so I could be victorious, and not because I really can’t bear the idea of living without him. I hate myself a little for never having seen this before. He’s too good a man to not be with a woman who worships him.

So, if we’re not meant to be together, then do I wish for him to be with someone who cares about him?

You know what?

I think I might.

“Is he going to wind up with Elyse?”

Deva doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Absolutely, even though neither of them realizes it yet. Their chakras were lit up like Christmas trees, and the energy they radiated together was almost palpable! Plus, did you see her in that tight dress? My God, she looks exactly like Sofia Vergara! Va-voom! I don’t swing that way, Lissy Ryder, but if I did, I’d be all up in that.”

As I have no clue as to what else to do right now, I laugh.

Deva then leaves me to eat my breakfast, and when she returns, she has two big, steaming mugs.

“Coffee?” I say, all expectantly. I mean, she was just in Hawaii. Stands to reason she’d have brought back a nice Kona.

Deva sets my mug next to the naked dude on the table. “Yerba mate. It’s a tea made from a variety of holly bush in subtropical South America.”

Of course it is.

“Does it contain caffeine?”

“Yes.”

“Good enough.” I take a sip and it’s not horrible.

Deva folds herself into a complicated pretzel twist across from me. “Tell me about the texts you sent, Lissy Ryder. You’ve experienced problems with the ripples in time?”

“Yes and no. Me? I’m great, except for the Duke business, which I guess was inevitable. I mean, I’ve got a cool life and good friends and a kick-ass business. Things couldn’t be much better. You should see my house! Is MTV
Cribs
still on? Because I could totally star in an episode. I even drive a bitchin’ whip.”

But that’s not the whole truth. Instead, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. It’s probably best to be completely honest with Deva, so I amend my previous statement. “Okay, I’m about to be sued by a fourteen-year-old named ChaCha. I kind of don’t know how to do my job, because I never had this level of success before. I can handle the bare minimum, but beyond that, it gets complicated. Still, all of this is manageable and I’m one thousand percent happier than I was before.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

I stare at the Ikat robe while I try to figure out the best way to explain what’s happening. You know, the ancient people really did a bang-up job on dyeing these colors. The indigo and the fuchsia color bands are still unbelievably bright. I should find out what Deva washes this in and—

Deva’s voice snaps me out of my reverie. “Lissy Ryder, I can’t keep telling you that denial is not a river in Egypt. Although, interesting fact about the ancient Egyptians—they called the fertile deltas around the Nile ‘black land’ and . . . Damn it, now I’m doing it, too. Spill it.”

I take a deep breath before I begin. “The problem is, though things are aces for me, life has become drastically worse for the people around me. Even Duke, now that I consider it. He was mad the first time around, but this time he was crushed.”

Then I run through the litany of problems I’ve encountered with the lives I’ve influenced, sparing no detail.

Deva’s unfazed. “I explained there would be ripples.”

“Not like this,” I argue. “A lot of these guys are stuck in lives that are awful compared to what they should have had. Nicole can’t have kids! Steve-o makes minimum wage, not albums. Amy Childs is a big heartbreaking mess, as are so many others. What happened and how can we fix it?”

I don’t add “without messing up my present,” but I definitely think it.

Deva’s still all nonchalant. “Again, Lissy Ryder, the nature of time is fluid. You make one change and everything around it is affected.”

My greatest fear has been confirmed. “What you’re telling me is that by going back and making things right for myself, I absolutely messed it up for everyone else, beyond a shadow of a doubt?”

“I am.”

“How? That’s what I don’t understand! I didn’t do anything wrong! I was nice to everyone! I didn’t inflict any emotional scars! I didn’t engage in any verbal assaults! I was Lissy 2.0, new and improved, all the bugs worked out! No one’s making videos now saying, ‘High school was the worst time of my life, but it gets better.’
Because it didn’t have to get better for anyone, because I did the right thing from the start!”

Deva closes her eyes in concentration and places her face in her massive mitts. When she’s finally worked out her thoughts, she looks back up at me. “Exactly.”

The tenuous grasp I had on my patience has disappeared. “
Exactly?
That tells me
exactly
nothing! You’re speaking in riddles! Are you saying that everyone should have had a terrible high school experience if they want to be successful later in life?”

“Exactly.”

“Argh!”

“Shh, calm yourself; have a sip of tea.” I comply, grudgingly. “Consider this, Lissy Ryder. It’s possible that your peers went on to incredible accomplishments specifically because you were so awful to them. Perhaps that’s your purpose. Maybe your future-fixing kindness has actually kept them from achieving their goals.”

My mind is reeling. “You mean if I weren’t there telling them they were talentless or fat or ugly, they wouldn’t have tried so hard to prove themselves?”

“Exa—” Deva catches herself. “I mean, precisely.”

“And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I never said that.”

“You texted it.”

She waves me off and creates a slight breeze with her great paw. “Oh, you can’t go by those. Nothing comes out right. Just last week I texted Shaman Bob to please bring his ‘big blue penis’ to my tent, which is hilarious.”

“Because you meant to type ‘pen.’”

Deva creases her brow. “No, because I meant to type ‘black.’”

Sometimes I wish I could unhear things.

“Back to the matter at hand. You said I couldn’t just travel back to 2004 and convince Nicole not to quit; ergo I can’t make sure she met her husband and thus fix her child-free situation.” I stand up, rather unsteadily, and I begin to pace.

“Lissy Ryder, I learned a great many things about the tonic on this last retreat. Bob is just a font of information, truly. Although the man cannot stand on a surfboard to save his life. We were down on the Honolua Bay and—”

“Is this relevant?” I’m in no mood for courtesy right now . . . or another pornographic reference.

“Not really,” Deva admits sheepishly. “Ahem, the tonic. Yes. When administered by someone other than the person who made it, the tonic takes that person where they
need
to go, rather than where they might want to go, so you can’t pick or choose. The tonic does that for you.”

“Did you not know that when you gave it to me?”

“Er . . .” Deva starts to dig in a giant basket next to the couch. “I should show you the piece of driftwood I found on the beach. I swear it’s shaped exactly like Taylor Lautner’s nose.”

“
Deva
. Did you not know that was a possibility?”

She sticks her whole face in the basket. “It’s almost uncanny, Lissy Ryder—there’s flaring and everything.”

I yank her back out of the basket by the hem of her caftan. “Damn it, Deva, you gave me a potion that had the potential to send me anywhere in time and you never mentioned it? Thank God I landed when and where I did! What if I’d ended up with the cavemen and a saber-toothed tiger ate me? What if I’d landed in Phuket right before the tsunami hit?”

Deva glances down at her bare wrist. “Hoo . . . is it getting late? Would you care for more tea?”

I’m about to go all HULK SMASH up in here. “You never sent anyone other than yourself, did you? I was your guinea pig! You’re still pissed off about the corn dog incident!”

“No, Lissy Ryder, of course not!” She relents. “Well, okay, maybe a little. Mostly I figured if something happened to you, you were expendable.”

“I can’t believe you!”

Deva attempts to calm me. “But we’re good now. I like you a lot more than I did when I brought you here the first time. I mean, you left Spanx strips all over my bathroom! Not cool. I’m a new age healer, not a maid, Lissy Ryder.”

I say nothing, choosing instead to glare daggers.

“As I was saying, all is not lost. I believe there’s a way for us to fix everyone else’s situation.”

“Finally!”

“But you’re probably not going to like it.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

She’s Only Seventeen

Ever hear the expression that the cure is worse than the disease?

Welcome to my world.

Here I am, back in my childhood bedroom, under the shining visage of David Coverdale, faced with an impossible choice.

When I left Deva’s yesterday, I started to walk home, but I ended up pacing the lakefront for hours. Nicole called, looking to commiserate about seriously regrettable decisions from the night before. Apparently she was
not
rocked like a hurricane. However, I told her I wasn’t feeling well. I asked her to drop my stuff on the back porch on her way home. She readily agreed. I suspect she wasn’t sad not to linger on the phone, as there was a Silkwood shower in her near future.

When Deva explained the only way out of this, my initial thought was
No, no way, no how, never going to happen.
But as I walked and considered, I had to look deep inside myself and ask if I was ready to play God.

And, narcissistic as I am, it turns out I’m not.

Much as I want what I have, from the house to the Jag to the pending lunch date with David Coverdale, I can’t be the one who keeps Nicole away from her rightful family. I can’t keep Amy away from Oprah, and I can keep her from rehab. I can’t keep Steve-o from all that mad naked ass. I can’t let Brian end up a low-level functionary at an insurance company because he married the red menace. Brooks needs to win her Emmy for best drama. Meredith needs to go to French Laundry. Robert needs to go to Fashion Week, Charlotte needs to attend junior high, and Jeremy has to boldly go where no man has gone before. (Well, at least not very many men.)

Their futures are worth more than a Birkin bag . . . even one that’s made out of ostrich skin.

Deva sent me packing with another vial of Incan fluid, this time about two weeks’ worth. Unfortunately, when I traveled back in time the last time, the fluid I didn’t drink was lost in space, because I didn’t have it in my hand at the jump. She explained you can carry stuff between dimensions as long as it’s touching you. That’s why I was still dressed when I woke up the first time.

Deva was running low on the ingredients, so half a vial was the most she could provide. She’s planning to fly to South America today in order to start gathering supplies to make more. Said she’ll be back in about a month and she won’t be available via phone, because the cell reception’s terrible in Machu Picchu. Oddly enough, I’ll miss her texts.

Deva explained the only way to fix the past was to jump back and do a full reset. She believes the fluid will take me to when and where I landed before, only this time my job is to do nothing.

That’s a lot harder than it sounds.

I can restore everyone’s life and livelihood and rosy future with one exception . . . my own. And all I have to do is be my old self. All those times I opted for kindness? No can do. When I chose to protect others, rather than denigrate them? Not this time. Will it be crooked and long and look like a schlong? Yep. Is Brooks’s nickname about to stick? Uh-huh. Does Debbie do corn dogs? If I want everyone else to be happy, she does. Am I to break poor Brian Murphy’s heart again? Abso-frigging-lutely.