The Year We Turned Forty (8 page)

“Crazy! He looks so different, but I like it better. He's the old him.” Jessie thought back, remembering that he was just making it big as a freelance architect, his work having been recognized in
House
magazine. He'd been so excited and it had created so many opportunities—ones that he refused to turn down. But that also meant he was home much less. “The one who used to love me.” Jessie's voice went quiet.

“He will again,” Gabriela said. “You'll see.”

“God, I hope you're right.”

“I'm scared to see Colin. What if I say all the wrong things to him and make everything worse?”

“You'll be fine. But be careful—don't rush the conversation until you figure out what's happened so far, because everything you say or do can impact our future. Remember that horrible movie with Ashton Kutcher?”

“
The Butterfly Effect
?” Gabriela scoffed. “That movie was two hours of our life we'll
never
get back!”

Jessie couldn't help but laugh.

“Although maybe we
can
get it back by not watching it this time!” Gabriela added.

“True, but maybe we could consider it research. Remember how anything he said or did differently changed everything else? Even the smallest changes had consequences?”

“Oh God. You're right. We need to be careful.” Gabriela remembered the way Blair ran his hand over his slicked-back hair when he talked about magic. Blair had told them they could only impact their own orbit, but still. That pressure alone was frightening.

Gabriela let out a long breath, scanning the guest room, feeling much like a guest herself. The stark white linens on the bed, the angular side tables and empty dresser top—couldn't she have placed a vase, a picture,
anything
on top to personalize it?—made it seem cold, uninviting, the opposite of what the room should be. Was that the person she had been? She reached up for the necklace she always wore, the one that had belonged to her mother, and fingered it delicately, relieved it was still there. It was the only thing in her life that represented her; everything else was packed away in boxes in the back of a closet because she found it too hard to look at. She slowly stood up, her feet still unsure beneath her, and tiptoed down the hallway to the master bedroom, holding her breath as she looked inside. But all she saw was a neatly made bed.

“But don't worry, Gab, we won't screw our lives up, at least not any worse than we did last time!” Jessie announced, her chipper tone startling Gabriela, who had been so deep in thought.

“You're not scared?” Gabriela asked.

“I'm scared shitless. I'm not sure I remember how to do this,” Jessie answered without hesitation. But as she looked at Lucas and her daughters playing with his tiny toes, she felt hopeful. “So far, the only downside I see is that I won't get to find out what happens next season on
Scandal
,” Jessie said, a smile in her voice.

Gabriela exhaled, wishing that really was the only downside, because they both knew it wasn't. “So what is the hottest TV show this year anyway?
Desperate Housewives
?”

“I think so,” Jessie answered, thinking those women with secrets might be able to teach her a thing or two.

“Wait! Have you heard from Claire?” Gabriela asked, suddenly frightened she hadn't made the journey with them. But then Blair's words replayed in her mind—it was all of them or none of them.

“No, I haven't. I'm going to hang up and call her,” Jessie said. “Do you know her number? I can't find it stored in this ancient BlackBerry of mine. How the hell did people function before smartphones? I feel like I'm in the Middle Ages!”

Gabriela laughed. “No clue. I can't even remember the last time I dialed an actual phone number! Colin always told me it would bite me in the ass that I didn't have anyone's number memorized. Guess he was right.”

“I only remembered yours because it's so easy. The last four digits being 4444.” Jessie smiled as Lucas made a sound and she smoothed his thick patch of dark hair. “And I think there's something about the old-school way of doing things that I sometimes miss. Maybe being back here will slow us down, teach us to appreciate the little things?”

“Uh-huh. You say that until you want to text someone, but realize you'll have to scroll through three letters each time you want to type one!”

“Whatever! You just get over here. I need you!”

“Remind me. What hospital did you deliver at?”

“Cedars-Sinai.”

“Okay, see you soon,” Gabriela said. She got dressed quickly then sighed with relief when she found her keys dangling from a hook in the kitchen, where she'd always kept them. She slid into the driver's seat and reached to select the hospital in her GPS, but found only a CD player, the black leather case filled with her favorite music resting on the passenger seat of her 2000 BMW. “Fuck it,” she sighed. “I'll just stop and ask for directions like they did in the old days.”

•  •  •

When Claire had first woken up with an intense pounding in her skull, she reached for the aspirin she always kept in her purse, but her bag wasn't there. She gasped as she felt movement beside her, her stomach twisting in fear. Had she slept with someone last night? No, she wouldn't have done that to Jared. But the last thing she remembered was standing in Blair's dressing room, squeezing her friends' hands tightly, sure they'd pop their eyes open moments later, their feet still firmly planted on the golden carpet, shaking their heads at their gullibility. As she adjusted to the darkness in the room, she started to swivel her head slowly to see who was lying next to her, her heart thumping so hard she was sure whomever was beside her could hear it. She'd felt something catch inside her as she took in Mason's profile.

Was she really back here?

The last time she'd seen him had been a few weeks after he'd given her the ultimatum regarding Emily, when he'd come back to retrieve his things from her house. Their conversation had been brief and distant, like two strangers on an elevator discussing which floor they needed to get off on. And that had been it.

And now he was back in her bed, snoring softly. She looked at him again, taking in the dimple in his chin and his slightly crooked front teeth, just visible between his lips. He hated them, but she thought the flaw gave him character.

She slipped out from under the floral comforter and looked at it with fresh eyes. Why had she ever thought a pattern that looked like her grandmother's curtains had been a good idea? And then it hit her.
Emily
.

She was about to see her daughter as a young girl again, with braces and dots of acne sprinkling her forehead. She felt a surge of excitement as she hurried to Emily's bedroom and flung open her door. Then she heard herself scream.
She's not here.

“What happened?” Mason materialized at her side, wearing only a pair of white boxer briefs.

Claire looked away quickly. “Where is Emily?” She started shaking and ran her hands over her bare arms. Had traveling through time screwed up her life in such a way that she wasn't Emily's mom anymore? But Emily's room was still the way Claire remembered it. A pink-and-turquoise-blue-striped comforter covered her four-poster bed. A
High School Musical
poster was taped to the wall. A CD player sat on her nightstand with a stack of discs a foot high next to it.

“You said she was at your mom's?” Mason's statement came out more like a question and Claire felt herself start to breathe again. She hurried back to her room and searched for her cell phone. She needed to see the date, to be sure this was really happening, that it wasn't some terrible dream. She did a double take when Mason walked over and handed her a silver Nokia phone with a tiny screen and a small keypad, the skin between her eyes creasing as she stared at it.

“Are you okay?” Mason studied her face.

Claire nodded dismissively and pressed a button.

“You're acting like you've never seen that thing before. Which is funny, because you had it glued to your hand last night!” He laughed. “Do your clients ever give you a moment of peace? Or your mom, for that matter? She must have called three times to update you about Emily.”

Claire was hit with a memory of the night she'd first slept with Mason, also their first date. It was the same evening Jessie had Lucas. Claire had left the hospital and called him after listening to the sweet voice mail message he'd left only hours after the party, asking her out.

And Claire had thought, why not call him? Emily was at her grandma's. And he was so cute—tall and sturdy with deep dimples and soft brown eyes that made her knees wobble. They'd met for a drink, which led to several, and then she'd boldly invited him over.

She caught her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Her hair was much longer and blonder than she remembered and sticking out in several directions. When she reached up to smooth it, she squinted at her appearance. Ten years had been stripped off her face, and as she ran her hand over her toned arms, she couldn't believe how strong she felt. She remembered how
old
she'd felt at forty, how much energy motherhood had taken when Emily was younger. After she and Mason broke up, it had been all her again, and she hadn't realized how much she'd leaned on him. How many lunches he'd packed and homework assignments he'd helped Emily complete when Claire had been working late. Even though she told him she didn't want to marry him and they didn't live together, he was almost always there. It was the hardest right after he left, when Claire would have to haul herself out of bed, averting her eyes
from the side Mason used to sleep on, and help Emily get ready for school, pulling the refrigerator open and realizing they were out of lunch meat, noticing her daughter's open math book resting on the table, only half the problems finished. Then, finally, after Emily's bus would pull away, Claire would often crawl back into bed and sleep for another hour before she'd have to show her first house.

“What's today's date?” she asked Mason.

“June third,” Mason answered as he pulled on his jeans and Claire tried not to gape. She'd forgotten how tall he was, how when she'd rest her head against him, she'd barely graze his chin.

“What year?” Claire frowned.

Mason cocked his head to the side. “I think you had a bit too much to drink last night.”

“Just tell me—is it 2015? Is the president Barack Obama?”

“Who?” Mason frowned. “Claire, you know it's 2005, right? And the president is George W. Bush.”

Claire felt her stomach sink to the floor.
This is real.

“Claire?” Mason walked over to her. He'd put on a shirt, but it was still unbuttoned, exposing his toned stomach. She used to love running her hands over it, feeling the ridges of his abs. She eyed it now, her fingers buzzing, wanting suddenly to touch it again. But then she thought of Jared. What would he say if he could see her, standing next to her ex-boyfriend wearing nothing but an old faded LA Lakers T-shirt?

“Yes, of course,” Claire managed. “Sorry, just a little out of it.”

“Well, if I hadn't witnessed you taking that final double tequila shot when they announced last call, I'd be worried I might have hooked up with some crazy chick! But I'd be out of it too, if I were you.” Mason laughed and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deeply before running his hands up under her shirt.
Claire wondered if it was still considered cheating if she technically hadn't met Jared yet in this life.

Her phone rang and she pulled away from Mason gently, smiling shyly and tugging her shirt back down. “Sorry, I need to answer this.”

He flashed her a smile, his eyes dancing with anticipation.

“Hello?”

“Claire! It's so good to hear your voice! Are you okay?” Jessie asked.

Claire looked at Mason and she felt fluttering in her stomach and attempted to picture Jared's wiry, sandy-colored hair and mint eyes. The same ones she'd peered into the morning she left for Las Vegas right before he loaded her luggage into the backseat of the convertible. “This is crazy,” she answered, and stepped into the bathroom, stealing another glance at Mason before she closed the door behind her. “Where are you? Where's Gabriela?”

Jessie filled Claire in on all she knew.

“So what now?” Claire whispered as she pulled down the toilet seat and sat on it.

“We try to fix the things we broke the first time.”

“I don't know, Jess, I'm not sure it was the right choice to come back here.” Claire looked down at her bare legs, grabbed her robe off the back of the door, and wrapped it around her, cinching it tightly. “You two wanted to change your own fate. But what if I'm here because I'm tasked with changing someone else's?” Claire sighed, thinking of her mother, Mona. When presented with the opportunity last night, she found she couldn't resist the chance to see her again. But now that she was perched on a toilet in the house she'd lived in ten years ago, she had no idea where to begin.

“Well, you're here now, Claire. And maybe changing your mom's fate is the first step in changing your own.”

“I don't know. I think a few more sessions with my therapist rather than time travel would have sufficed,” Claire joked, but underneath her laugh she was worried.

“Okay,” Jessie conceded. “I get that this is super complicated. But personally, I'm grateful for this chance to rewrite my past.”

Claire thought back to Mason's kiss, how it sent shockwaves to her toes. It felt so good, and so bad, all at the same time. “If we are trying to make things right, then why does it already feel so wrong?”

Gabriela waved good-bye as she backed out of the hospital room. Jessie held Lucas tightly against her chest, as if she were afraid he'd be snatched out of her arms, literally, by the hands of time. For the past hour, Gabriela had studied Jessie's wide grin as she brushed Madison's bangs away from her face and Morgan leaned across her lap, their newborn brother between them. Gabriela couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her friend smile so sincerely.