You've Found Oliver (You've Reached Sam, #2)(71)

I still glance at my phone, always hoping to see a message from him. As more time passes, I realize they’re never coming. So I eventually stop waiting for them.

Of course, it doesn’t mean I forget about him. The memories I keep of us feel like yesterday. I hope he knows how strong my love is. I would search the universe, across different timelines, just to catch another glimpse of him.

Sometimes, I feel sad about losing him. Then I remember how lucky we are. Of all the infinite possibilities out there, we chose each other. Maybe our time together was shorter than we both wanted, but I am forever changed by it. Everywhere I go, I find more reasons to miss him.

I miss him when I listen to music and one of our songs comes on. I miss him when someone calls my name and, for a split second, I think it could be him. I miss him when I’m walking alone through town and pass the bakery that closed down. And I miss him every time I look up and see the stars freckled across the night sky. There’s a quote from The Poetics of Space that sticks with me. Professor Clarke wrote it on the board on the last day of class.

“It is better to live in a state of impermanence than in one of finality.” —Gaston Bachelard

I’ve been thinking about this more lately, especially as I look back on my life. As much as we want to, we can’t control time or keep it from moving forward. Sometimes, we have to embrace the changes that come with it. Maybe there’s something beautiful about that, living with the uncertainty of what’s to come. You never know what possibilities will be born out of it.

But some things will always be certain. Like the sun rising in the morning. Or the leaves falling in the autumn and the cherry blossoms returning in the spring. That he and I will always be connected. And who knows? Maybe we’ll see each other again in twenty-nine years, when the comet passes once more, sending streaks of light across the sky.

I hope he still remembers me then.





Epilogue


    One and a Half Years Later



It’s early summer on a warm, sundrenched afternoon in a new city. Petals fall like snow into the canals that run between the narrow streets. I’m studying at the University of Amsterdam before the start of my junior year. It’s my first time traveling to another country. Vibrant brick buildings lean into each other as houseboats float along the water. I was planning to work at Mr. Lee’s bookstore for the summer, but Julie encouraged me to do something more adventurous. Expand my perspective of the world. So I looked into different study abroad programs.

Professor Clarke connected me to one of her colleagues here. He teaches a seminar on Greek philosophy, which I’ve been more interested in lately. He gave me a list of books to read on my own. I’ve been living here for over two weeks now. I bought a used bicycle the day after I arrived and have been riding it everywhere. It’s a big part of the culture here. It’s such an easy way to move through the city, feeling the summer breeze against your face.

It’s strange to be thousands of miles away from home. Sometimes, I find myself biking for hours, crossing one bridge after another, discovering new parts of the city. But I make sure to stop every once in a while to explore things on foot. Mom asked me to send pictures of everything.

I get off my bike at The Nine Streets. It’s a charming neighborhood, filled with little shops and restaurants that sit along the water. It’s one of my favorite places to wander around after classes. There’s this funny restaurant that sells hamburgers through a wall like a vending machine. I restrain myself from buying another cheese croquette, which has become a new obsession of mine. Instead, I grab a water and continue along the bustling street.

Amsterdam is crowded in the summertime. I wasn’t sure if I would like it here at first. Especially having to be on my own for three months. There are so many things I haven’t done yet, like visit the Anne Frank House or walk through the Van Gogh Museum, lay a blanket in the park and drink some wine with friends I haven’t made yet. I’m looking forward to my first pride festival in July.

There’s another reason I chose to come to Amsterdam, but I wasn’t expecting to run into him so soon….

I’ve turned down a quiet street I haven’t visited before. Maybe it’s the golden hour, but everything seems bathed in fairy light. He’s sitting outside a café, reading a book. I almost didn’t recognize him at first. Then I catch a glimpse of his face and go completely still. He’s wearing a faded burgundy shirt, and his hair is cut shorter than I remember.

For a moment, all the timelines are connected again. I can’t tell if this is another daydream. I knew he was studying here from a school’s news article I found. But I wasn’t sure when, or if, we’d run into each other. It’s as though he’s been waiting for me to show up for the last two years. There are only a few tables outside, and all of them are already taken. I consider waiting for one to open up, but it’s been far too long, so I walk right up to him and say, “Is anyone sitting here?”

He glances up from his book. Strands of dark hair drift across his forehead as he blinks at me. It feels like a lifetime since we last saw each other. I’m waiting to see a flicker of recognition somewhere in his eyes, but his expression doesn’t change when he says, “No. Go ahead.”

I wait for him to say more, but he looks back down at his book again. It’s like every memory of us is gone. Just like that. I’m a little sad at first. I remind myself this is a different version of him. In this universe, we haven’t met before. So I pull out the empty seat and push the sadness out of my mind. It’s still nice to see him again. Even if he doesn’t know who I am.