Another Day
Page 51
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I hope I have not changed anything for you. I hope that I did not alter your life in any way. If I did, please know it was not my intention. I have done the best I can.
I have tried to leave your memories alone. I have tried not to learn anything you would not want me to know.
I hope this doesn’t scare you. The last thing I want is to scare you.
I must say to you again: This was not my choice. If it had been my choice, it would be unforgivable.
What do you remember? I am about to tell you the course of your day. This is the last chance for you to have memories uninformed by this account.
When I woke up, I was in shock. In all of my years, I’ve never woken up in the body of someone I care so much about. I wanted to respect your privacy as much as possible, so you are wearing yesterday’s underwear, and in moments when anything I had not seen already was exposed, I kept my eyes closed.
I met your parents over breakfast, then drove to school. Since I had been there before, it was not hard to navigate. I don’t think anyone knew something was wrong. I went to class and kept my head down. I tried to take good notes for you. If you want details about classes, you can find them in your notebooks.
I tried to avoid Justin. I knew you would have wanted me to avoid him. This was effective until lunch, when he suggested we go for pizza. I couldn’t find a way out of it. Nothing more than conversation happened. He is annoyed with Stephanie and Steven for fighting.
I did not see him again until after school. He wanted to do something but I told him I had to pick up your mother from a doctor’s appointment. Just in case he mentions it.
(I realize it is strange that I keep saying “I” here—by “I,” I of course mean “you.” You have to understand: As I did these things, it didn’t feel like you were doing them. It felt to me like I was doing them. I wonder if you will feel the same.)
Because we had already been to an ocean and a forest together, I felt it would be best to head to a mountain. I also wanted us to be alone…and we were very alone as we climbed. (If you want to know where we were, the search should still be on your phone. I haven’t erased anything.) It felt good to be solitary, to feel an exertion that was purely physical. I wanted you to remember that, and to remember me there with you. I don’t know if this is possible. But—and I know this sounds strange—I felt like I was feeling it for both of us.
Not wanting to get you in trouble, I made it back in time for a very cordial dinner with your parents. Then I retreated to your room, attempted as much of your homework as possible, and decided to write you this note.
I have no way to know how you will react to this, nor would I presume to say there is a right or wrong way to react. Even if I haven’t caused any damage, I know this breach may still be irreparable. I will understand if you never want to see or speak or write to me again. But I will also hope desperately that you will want me to remain in your life. I leave that up to you.
I know it is neither my fault nor my choice, but still I am sorry. I know it must be as hard to read this as it has been to write it.
Yours,
A
My mother knocks on the door, making sure I’m awake. Do I remember telling Justin I was taking her to the doctor? Yes, I do. I remember saying that, and when I think harder about it, I even remember telling him it was an appointment for a sleep doctor. He joked to me about stealing some of her pills.
How can I know this, if I wasn’t there?
I can only know this because A left it for me. It doesn’t matter which of us was in control of my body, as long as the memory was made and stored away.
I want to be angry. I want to be freaked out. I want to be able to laugh at this, to find it ridiculous. These would all be rational responses. But instead I feel…sad. Sad that A had to go through this. Sad that there was no way it could be avoided. Sad that it complicates things even more. I know with all my heart that A isn’t lying to me—my body and my life were safe when he was in control of them. I know A wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me.
I also realize—in a way I couldn’t have realized before—how easy it would have been for A to destroy everything. A could have made me do anything. Break up with Justin. Take naked photos of myself and email them to A’s account. Run away.
But nothing like that happened. I know nothing like that happened.
Still, it can’t all go back to normal. No, this thing has happened to me. I can’t just shrug it off like all the other people whose bodies A inhabits. They don’t know how they missed a day. But I know. I can’t help knowing.
I imagine A waiting to see if I will ever be in touch again, if this is enough to make me walk away.
I write:
A,
I think I remember everything. Where are you today? Instead of writing a long email, I want to talk.
R
Almost immediately, I get a response.
R,
I am so relieved to hear from you. I am about two hours away, a boy named Dylan. But I will go wherever you want me to go.
A
I don’t want to wait. But I know I have to go to school to see if A did any damage without realizing it. So I tell A to meet me back at the bookstore, after school. We’ll have to wait until then.
His response is a simple
Thank you.
I don’t say anything back. I don’t need to. All I have to do is be there later on—and prepare to see what happened with everyone else on the yesterday I missed. I am expecting it to be a minefield—to have to account for something I said or didn’t say, someplace I went or didn’t go. I’m ready for the people in my life to be angry with me or upset with me or confused by me.
I have tried to leave your memories alone. I have tried not to learn anything you would not want me to know.
I hope this doesn’t scare you. The last thing I want is to scare you.
I must say to you again: This was not my choice. If it had been my choice, it would be unforgivable.
What do you remember? I am about to tell you the course of your day. This is the last chance for you to have memories uninformed by this account.
When I woke up, I was in shock. In all of my years, I’ve never woken up in the body of someone I care so much about. I wanted to respect your privacy as much as possible, so you are wearing yesterday’s underwear, and in moments when anything I had not seen already was exposed, I kept my eyes closed.
I met your parents over breakfast, then drove to school. Since I had been there before, it was not hard to navigate. I don’t think anyone knew something was wrong. I went to class and kept my head down. I tried to take good notes for you. If you want details about classes, you can find them in your notebooks.
I tried to avoid Justin. I knew you would have wanted me to avoid him. This was effective until lunch, when he suggested we go for pizza. I couldn’t find a way out of it. Nothing more than conversation happened. He is annoyed with Stephanie and Steven for fighting.
I did not see him again until after school. He wanted to do something but I told him I had to pick up your mother from a doctor’s appointment. Just in case he mentions it.
(I realize it is strange that I keep saying “I” here—by “I,” I of course mean “you.” You have to understand: As I did these things, it didn’t feel like you were doing them. It felt to me like I was doing them. I wonder if you will feel the same.)
Because we had already been to an ocean and a forest together, I felt it would be best to head to a mountain. I also wanted us to be alone…and we were very alone as we climbed. (If you want to know where we were, the search should still be on your phone. I haven’t erased anything.) It felt good to be solitary, to feel an exertion that was purely physical. I wanted you to remember that, and to remember me there with you. I don’t know if this is possible. But—and I know this sounds strange—I felt like I was feeling it for both of us.
Not wanting to get you in trouble, I made it back in time for a very cordial dinner with your parents. Then I retreated to your room, attempted as much of your homework as possible, and decided to write you this note.
I have no way to know how you will react to this, nor would I presume to say there is a right or wrong way to react. Even if I haven’t caused any damage, I know this breach may still be irreparable. I will understand if you never want to see or speak or write to me again. But I will also hope desperately that you will want me to remain in your life. I leave that up to you.
I know it is neither my fault nor my choice, but still I am sorry. I know it must be as hard to read this as it has been to write it.
Yours,
A
My mother knocks on the door, making sure I’m awake. Do I remember telling Justin I was taking her to the doctor? Yes, I do. I remember saying that, and when I think harder about it, I even remember telling him it was an appointment for a sleep doctor. He joked to me about stealing some of her pills.
How can I know this, if I wasn’t there?
I can only know this because A left it for me. It doesn’t matter which of us was in control of my body, as long as the memory was made and stored away.
I want to be angry. I want to be freaked out. I want to be able to laugh at this, to find it ridiculous. These would all be rational responses. But instead I feel…sad. Sad that A had to go through this. Sad that there was no way it could be avoided. Sad that it complicates things even more. I know with all my heart that A isn’t lying to me—my body and my life were safe when he was in control of them. I know A wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me.
I also realize—in a way I couldn’t have realized before—how easy it would have been for A to destroy everything. A could have made me do anything. Break up with Justin. Take naked photos of myself and email them to A’s account. Run away.
But nothing like that happened. I know nothing like that happened.
Still, it can’t all go back to normal. No, this thing has happened to me. I can’t just shrug it off like all the other people whose bodies A inhabits. They don’t know how they missed a day. But I know. I can’t help knowing.
I imagine A waiting to see if I will ever be in touch again, if this is enough to make me walk away.
I write:
A,
I think I remember everything. Where are you today? Instead of writing a long email, I want to talk.
R
Almost immediately, I get a response.
R,
I am so relieved to hear from you. I am about two hours away, a boy named Dylan. But I will go wherever you want me to go.
A
I don’t want to wait. But I know I have to go to school to see if A did any damage without realizing it. So I tell A to meet me back at the bookstore, after school. We’ll have to wait until then.
His response is a simple
Thank you.
I don’t say anything back. I don’t need to. All I have to do is be there later on—and prepare to see what happened with everyone else on the yesterday I missed. I am expecting it to be a minefield—to have to account for something I said or didn’t say, someplace I went or didn’t go. I’m ready for the people in my life to be angry with me or upset with me or confused by me.
