Someday

by David Levithan

  “Tomorrow?” I say.

  “Of course. Tomorrow. I’ll be in touch. Let me know who you are when you wake up.”

  “You too,” I say.

  “Oh, I expect I’ll be Wyatt. But I suppose we’ll see.”

  I’m hoping he’s not Wyatt. But I keep my mouth shut. For all our honesty, I still sense there are things I can’t say.

  And yet…X is right. Even if I don’t always agree with him, having these conversations is extraordinary. I can’t see any way I can let them go.

  RHIANNON

  I’m starting to feel like a commuter, driving back and forth to DC three days in a row.

  The drive this afternoon is different from the one home last night. Then the car was full of singing—Preston playing iPhone DJ, and me, Alexander, and Will singing along with whatever he threw our way, whether or not we actually knew the songs. Every now and then, we’d pass Rebecca’s car, and there, in the middle of the night in the middle of the highway, we’d roll down our windows and have a sing-off. I wasn’t thinking about A at all. Not until I dropped Preston and Will off at Will’s house, and then it was just me and Alexander in the car—me and Alexander and the invisible presence of A sitting between us, preventing me from saying some of the things I wanted to say, because I didn’t want A to overhear me tell Alexander what a great night I’d had.

  He kissed me good night, and I know it could have been a much longer good night. But when I let go of it, he didn’t insist I pick it back up. He just smiled, told me I was the best protest driver a boy could ask for, and went up to his room, to create more things from the day.

  Now he’s the invisible one in the car. I guess they’re all invisibly in the car. A, Alexander, Rebecca. Nathan, too. Nathan, who’s been texting me nonstop, telling me I can’t let A back out of getting rid of Poole.

  I’ve seen Wyatt’s brother, he told me. It’s bad.

  I know it’s bad. This whole thing is bad.

  But what can I do?

  * * *

  —

  I get to Politics and Prose early, so I check out their recommendations table and find a few books that sound interesting. Now all I need is for them to sell gift certificates for time to read them all. That would be a good trick.

  When I’m done browsing, I get a coffee for myself and a table for us both, and wait for A to show up. I think about sitting and waiting for A at the bookstore near my house, back before I knew A was A. I was expecting Nathan to walk in, and a girl walked in instead.

  It feels like a long time ago. Not in a bad way. Although I can recognize the girl I was then, I see nothing more than a resemblance to the girl I am now. Life before A seems even emptier than life without A did.

  At the same time, I wonder if this is another one of those days. What if the conversation at this bookstore has the same effect as that other conversation? Is that even possible?

  My eyes were opened. I don’t want to close them. I want them to open more.

  * * *

  —

  I see A walk in. I see A finding me. The smile.

  I think: Don’t underestimate the gift of someone who smiles every time they see you.

  * * *

  —

  A tells me about Andy, about X. I listen. A asks about my day, about the rest of the protest. I give a short version of the story. I want to get back to X.

  “Nathan went to Wyatt’s house,” I tell A. “They have no idea what’s happened to him. Can you imagine what it must be like for them? We have to figure out a way to save him.”

  “It’s not that easy. It’s not like I can just say a spell and set him free.”

  “But won’t X listen to you?”

  “I’m not sure he will.”

  “Then why are you still talking to him?”

  “Because he knows things! I’m having conversations with him I can’t have with anyone else. And if that stops—I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “So you’re willing to let Wyatt’s parents worry he’s dead so you can have someone to talk things over with?”

  “Don’t make it sound like that.”

  “But that’s the way it is, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not the one in control! He’s the one in control.”

  “Because you’re letting him be in control.”

  “Because he knows more than I do.”

  “I’m not convinced that what he knows is worth knowing. Teaching you to take advantage? That’s the big advice?”

  “Again, you’re making it sound—”

  “I’m making it sound the way I’m hearing it!”

  A presses their palms against the table, sits up. Then takes a deep breath and looks at me.

  “We’re fighting,” A says. “Why are we fighting?”

  Once upon a time, I was the girl who would have answered, I don’t know. I was the girl who would have leaned so our knees pressed together, and said, I don’t want to fight. I would have stopped, because even if it wasn’t what the other person needed, it’s what they wanted.

  Not anymore.

  “We’re fighting because love isn’t just the times when you’re getting along perfectly, when everything is effortless,” I say. “We’re fighting because these are not trivial things we’re talking about—they are about as meaningful as it gets, and because I love you and you love me, we have an obligation to engage with the meaningful rather than giving it a pass just because we don’t want to raise our voices. We know we’re on the same side. I just need you to see how troubling X’s influence is. Just like you helped me see how dangerous Justin was. Just like I imagine you’d help me see how dangerous X is, if the roles were reversed.”

  “The roles will never be reversed.”

  “I know that. My point is that I am helping you in the same way you’d help me. That’s part of love, too. Remember what you said yesterday about the protest, that there’s a constant balance between right and wrong, and that what we were doing was trying to add our weight to make the world tilt to rightness? Well, guess what. That battle is fought inside of us as well. You decide which way the balance will tip at any given moment. And if you’re lucky, if you’re very lucky, then you will have people in your life who will throw their own weight into your balance, to help you even when the force of wrong seems to have the heavier influence. That’s what I’m doing right now. I am trying to help you keep things weighted the right way. But I can only make it tilt so much. You ultimately control the scale.”

  A stares at me a second, then tells me, “You’re right.”

  “I know I’m right,” I reply. “Still, it’s nice to hear you say it.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “At the very least, we tell Wyatt’s parents where he is. Maybe that will chase him out.”

  “Maybe. But it might also put Wyatt’s parents at risk.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Nothing. I mean, a hypothetical X used. Which I’m sure was a hypothetical. But still.”

  “What other option is there?”

  “The only one I can think of is if there’s some way to get Wyatt to push X out. But…I’m not sure that would work. And the only person I can ask about it is X.”

  “Or maybe you deliver an ultimatum: If he doesn’t free Wyatt, you’ll never talk to him again. You’ll disappear.”

  “I don’t know if that will work.”

  “Or you just ask him to do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I’m really not sure that would work.”

  “So we go for the nuclear option.”

  “Which is?”

  “Getting Wyatt to push him out.”

  “Okay. But let me give X one more chance. See if I can talk him into it. I really think he’s getting as much out of these conversations as I am. Can I have on
e more day?”

  “One. That’s it. And even that’s unfair to Wyatt.”

  “I understand. And thank you.”

  “I’m not giving you permission here.”

  “No. Thank you for fighting with me. I appreciate it.”

  I smile. “Any time.”

  “So that’s a part of our nameless whatever-this-is?”

  “Yup.”

  “And are we going to figure out what we are?”

  “Not tonight. Tonight let’s just run around a bookstore, reading things to one another.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “No such thing. But I’ll settle for close to perfect.”

  For our next span of time together, we don’t talk about X or Wyatt or Alexander or Nathan or anyone else. It’s just us, a bookstore, and thousands upon thousands of books. We dip from poetry to gardening, politics to prose. We seal ourselves into our own world, and in there, we are all the company we need.

  A

  Day 6141

  Victoria has only one roommate, Lara. Their third debate partner, Lionel, is in the room next door. Lara wakes me up at seven-thirty on the dot and tells me I have exactly a half hour before final prep. The debate itself is at ten.

  I message the situation to X and say I’ll be there when I can. He messages back, telling me to ditch the debate. I tell him I can’t do that to Victoria, Lara, or Lionel. You don’t even know them, he responds. Then, a few seconds later, he adds, Which is very noble of you. I will see you this afternoon. You know where to find me.

  When I get out of the shower, I find Lara’s set up all of our notes on the hotel desk. She must signal to Lionel as soon as I’m dressed, because the knock comes at the door less than a minute later. I sit down at the desk, open the folder, and find the same debate question that Andy had yesterday.

  Only we’re the other side.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say.

  “Excuse me?” Lara says.

  “You prepared, right?” Lionel sounds anxious.

  “Maybe too much,” I mutter.

  It feels even worse when we get to the conference room where the debate’s being held, and there are Andy, Shane, and Vaughn, already sitting up on the stage. Shane looks energized, Vaughn looks nerve-ridden, and Andy looks…tired. Really tired. I know for a fact that he was in bed by midnight. But I have no idea what time he got up, or how much catch-up he felt he needed to get before the debate.

  I wish I could unlearn everything I saw in their notes. But since I can’t, the dilemma becomes: Who do I owe more, Victoria or Andy?

  In some way, Lara saves me, because she speaks whenever she gets a chance. And when she’s not speaking, she’s busy writing Victoria and Lionel notes about what to say. So I follow her lead. I don’t head off the points that I know Andy’s about to make. It remains about as fair as it can be, with me here.

  I have no idea if we did well or not. When the judges come back and say that Andy’s team has won, I am neither surprised nor unsurprised.

  Lara, though, goes berserk.

  “Are you kidding me?” she says, loud enough for the whole room to hear. Our advisor tries to hush her, and that only makes her angrier.

  “You can’t win them all,” Lionel mumbles.

  “Speak for yourself!” Lara shouts back. Then she gathers up her things, says, “I have to go prepare for my next event,” and storms off.

  “If you need half my bed tonight, it’s all yours,” Lionel says. He’s not coming on to me; he’s just afraid of what Lara might do.

  “It’ll be fine. I think.”

  Our advisor suggests we go to lunch. I start to make an excuse, but then Lionel looks at me with pleading eyes, and I relent.

  It’s after two by the time I hit X’s suite.

  “Couldn’t pull yourself away from the oral hijinks?” X says as soon as he sees me. I think for a moment that he and Lara might make a great couple.

  “It actually played out in a really weird way. Remember Andy from yesterday?”

  I tell him about what happened, and the dilemma I felt. He gets me a ginger ale without asking me if I want one. He’s drinking either water or vodka.

  “So what would you have done?” I ask.

  “I would have used the information I had.”

  “But isn’t that unfair to Andy?”

  “Maybe—but how do you know Victoria wouldn’t have anticipated Andy’s arguments even without the inside information? You can’t. And if you happened to wake up as her after spending a day as her opponent—that’s hardly her fault. If I were you, I would’ve gone for the kill.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I say.

  I think he might be offended, but instead he smiles. “I’m glad we’re starting to understand one another.”

  I know I should ask about Wyatt again…but I also remember how that shut down yesterday’s conversation. And there are other things I want to know first.

  “How do you think it works?” I ask X. “How do I get to be Andy one day and Victoria the next? And why are we never the same person twice? Do you think there’s some overall pattern? Do you think any of it is supposed to make sense, or is it all just random?”

  “Starting with the easy questions, I see.” X takes a sip of his vodka-or-water. “But I understand. Those were the ones that I kept going back to as well.”

  I feel a rush of excitement—is it possible he actually has answers? Then the rush slows when he says, “I can tell you my theories, but they’re just theories. We need to gather more evidence. With you here, at least we’ve doubled the pool.”

  “What are your theories?”

  “Let’s first tackle the question of why there are no repeat performances. My theory is that the body develops an immunity once we leave. A spiritual immunity, as it were. The door we enter can only be entered once. After we leave, the body knows how to lock it behind us.”

  “And what about how we end up where we end up?”

  “I think it’s in relation to each other. I think when there are more of us near, we stay closer. Spread apart, we travel farther. But, again, that’s speculation.”

  “I’ve thought that, too.”

  “The only way to test it would be to have a much larger sample. I suspect that’s not going to happen in the near future.”

  “Okay, stepping back: Do you ever wonder what’s behind it?”

  “The big question. And the answer is: We’ll never know. Is it God? An algorithm? Are we all just a part of some twenty-fourth-century high schooler’s science project? That’s beyond my expertise. The important thing, I’ve found, is not to care one way or the other.”

  We talk more about this, and then about living life in secret.

  “You let Nathan think I was the devil,” I say.

  “It’s the language he was going to listen to the most. And it was better than telling him the truth.”

  “Did you tell Sara the truth?” I ask.

  “Somehow I knew you were going to bring her up. And the answer is no, I didn’t tell her the truth.”

  “But how did you explain your changes?”

  “You can guess the answer to that one.”

  Of course. “You stopped changing.”

  “Exactly. It really improves a relationship, having the same body every day.”

  “But it wasn’t enough.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’ve been talking about her in the past tense.”

  “Oh, that. Yes. It’s certainly over. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t enough. It was enough, until I’d had enough. Then I realized—we are meant to be solo travelers. Or, I see now, meant to travel with our own kind. Love with someone quote-normal-unquote…it’s not for us.”

  “Not for you, maybe.”
/>
  “Awww. You look so sad. I’m sure Rhiannon is a lovely girl. I’m sure she’s worth all your affections. You’re not ready for the long view, and that’s fine. But the long view, A? She will always want different things than you want, because she will always have different things available to her. I’m sure she’s understanding, but I’m also positive that in the three days we’ve been talking, I’ve shown more insight into your life than she ever could. This is not a slight to her. Nobody who isn’t like us could possibly understand what it is to be us. I know you’re a fan of empathy, but it only goes so far.”

  “I don’t think fan is really the right word for—”

  He waves his hand dismissively. “I know. Poor choice of words. But surely you understand what I’m saying.”

  “You don’t know Rhiannon. Or what it’s like with Rhiannon.”

  “Then introduce me! I’d love to meet her.”

  I don’t want to. In the pit of my stomach, I don’t want to. And I know that’s a bad sign.

  I say, “First I’d love to stop meeting Wyatt. Can you please let him go back to his parents? It’ll make it much easier to talk to you if I’m not thinking about them or him.”

  “Another limit of empathy!” X sees this doesn’t land well with me. “I feel you’re getting hung up on Wyatt. And if you’re hung up on Wyatt, you haven’t really been hearing a thing I’ve been saying. Wyatt has no more or less right to live than I do. Ultimately, it is the victor who gets the spoils—in this case, I get the body because I want the body more. You will, I assure you, learn to make your needs as important as theirs.”

  “What if I say I won’t come back here unless you switch to someone else?”

  “I don’t think you’d be able to handle the guilt if something were to happen to that someone else. Are you sure you want to take that on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean.” He sighs. “Look at us, ignoring common ground again, and getting caught in these petty squabbles. We are certainly better than that.”