Evidently something had clicked in season seven.
He held up his right arm and looked at it, marveling at the possibility that it might have been capable of throwing a pitch in the big leagues, if he’d stuck it out.
If he’d stuck it out. The retrospective nature of the monster’s gift was beginning to annoy him. All these might have beens and glad he didn’ts.
Was it too late? Were the bridges burned as soon as the other Coopers pulled free of him? Cooper tapped the steering wheel as the left turn blinker continued to tick. He had the same arm as his double in the Reds uniform. He was the same guy as the one who seemed overjoyed to be back together with his small-town girlfriend. Maybe Cooper could have his own Reds uniform and his own small-town girlfriend. What if the point of seeing your possible selves wasn’t to cause you to regret, but to guide you into the future?
Cooper pulled out, heading back the way he’d come.
When he got out of his car in front of Julie’s house, another Cooper stayed in the car, then pulled off in an invisible car. It was after midnight, but Cooper rang Julie’s doorbell anyway.
Her brow furrowed when she opened the door and saw it was him.
“I’m sorry to bother you so late, but this couldn’t wait until morning.” He was suddenly aware of the slight alcohol-induced laziness in his tongue, and hoped Julie wasn’t. “For the past months, ever since I bumped into you outside Subway, I’ve been imagining what it would be like if we hadn’t broken up. I see us going out, having a great time. Laughing.” It certainly wasn’t a lie; he did see them doing those things. Julie’s brow was still furrowed, like she was trying to get a sense of what the hell was going on. He pushed on, figuring he had nothing to lose but his dignity at this point. “What I’m trying to say is, I made a mistake. More than one, actually, but one with you especially, and I’m wondering if it’s too late to fix it.”
Julie leaned her face against the door jamb and studied Cooper for a moment. “What are you asking?”
“What?”
“What are you asking?” Julie shrugged. “Are you asking if I want to go get a hamburger sometime, or are you about to get down on one knee and propose? ‘Cause it sounds like you’re about to get down on one knee. If you’re asking if I want to go get a hamburger some time, then sure.”
Cooper felt a little dumbstruck. “Oh. Yeah, I’m asking about the hamburger.”
Julie gave him a crooked, somewhat ironic smile. “Okay, then.”
“How about this Friday?” Somewhere Cooper had read that it was rude to ask a woman on a date for the next night, that it implied she didn’t have options.
Julie nodded once and started to pull the door partway closed. “I’ll see you Friday.”
“Great.”
His lips feeling slightly numb, his nose tingling in an odd but pleasant manner, he turned and took the steps down her stoop. Eventually he would have to show her the thing in his house, but there would be time for that, if things went well.
As he headed home Cooper realized he’d had the monster all wrong. Maybe there would eventually come a time when most of his doubles were leading less satisfying lives than he. Assuming, of course, he was really seeing his possible lives and not just suffering from some massive psychosis. That possibility had to remain open.
He’d have to wait until morning to call Dave Dreyton and ask if the Mudcats would take him back. He’d ask nicely, maybe offer to play for less than what they had been paying him. Knowing what was possible (again, assuming this wasn’t all a delusion), he’d work his ass off—right the hell off—to merge Cincinnati Reds Cooper’s reality track back into his reality track. He was rehearsing what he’d say when he called Dave Dreyton as he unlocked the door and burst into his living room.
There was an enormous hole in the glass, just like before. This time, though, the monster and all of his doubles were on their side. Cooper approached cautiously, afraid the monster might lunge out at him, maybe undo what it had done the first time. It stayed put, though, watching him approach.
“Thank you,” he said. “For what you did. I understand it now.”
If the monster understood, it gave no indication.
Cooper picked up the remote. “TV? Want to watch some TV?”
The monster grew an appendage, and, in a gesture that was unmistakable, invited Cooper in. Cooper’s balls curled at the thought, much as he had grown to respect the thing.
It pointed at the hole.
“Oh, Jeez.” Was it asking him to go down that hole? It wasn’t making any threatening moves toward him—an invitation rather than a command.
The monster waited, watching him. Somehow Cooper felt sure it wouldn’t take him somewhere unless it was sure he would be safe, but still, that hole went somewhere people weren’t meant to go.
On the other hand, it would be like taking the first step on the moon. Yes, he might die horribly, but as he’d learned, you didn’t get anywhere unless you took some serious chances.
Cooper touched the glass where it was newly-shaped, stepped into the archway between his part of the living room and the creature’s, and hesitated. The truth of it was, Cooper didn’t want to walk on the moon, he wanted to walk to the mound in Cincinnati. He wanted to walk on a beach with Julie. He’d already set out on his adventure.
He shook his head. “No. Thanks, but no.” As Cooper backed away from the threshold, another Cooper tore free and ducked through the opening. The new Cooper followed the monster into the hole as the old Cooper turned on the TV.
Futures Near and Far Page 17
