I’m tempted to start sobbing right here in the pharmacy. I’m desperate to tell someone, anyone, that I fell off a ladder in the gym and woke up in an unfamiliar house with huge boobs.
But alas. There are people around, including an elderly woman with a poodle perm impatiently tapping her foot in line behind me. I must play it cool. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Never better. I’m just looking for my mom,” I say, feigning calm and collected.
Her stare is perplexed. She gives my hand a pitiful pat. “Dear, your mom doesn’t work here.” She can see I’m confused. “She hasn’t worked here in five years. She’s back at the uptown pharmacy now over on Oak. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Why are you still in pajamas?”
I squint at her, trying to understand. Mom definitely still works here. I hung out here the other day and organized the shampoo aisle, waiting for her shift to end so she could drive me home. “Can I just ask . . . what day is it?”
“Friday, June 12, 2037,” she says, like it’s obvious. It’s certainly June 12. But 2024, not 2037.
If it really were 2037, that would mean I’m . . . No. It can’t be.
Mystified, I lean closer, peering over my shoulder to ensure the woman behind me isn’t eavesdropping. She definitely is. “How old am I?” I whisper for confirmation.
Stacey does the mental math. “You were born the same year my Teddy was born . . . so that would put you at thirty?” She smiles sweetly.
Thirty. THIRTY?
A hot flash besieges me. Spikes of heat radiate up my back and neck. My entire body is a scorching inferno. My vision is blurring. I need to lie down. What the hell is happening to me?
Stacey prattles on, unaware of my utter confusion. “Seems like just yesterday you were in here buying candy with your friends for your movie nights.” No shit. Because it was last week. Kassie ditched Saturday night. Shocker. But Nori and I watched a horror movie about a girl who gets sucked inside a Ouija board. I slept with the lights on. I’m certainly no thirty-year-old.
Stacey chatters away about how she still remembers my zombie-cheerleader Halloween costume from when I was seven, but my brain zeroes in on the last bit. “And now you’re getting married next week. I hear you’re having quite the shindig. A joint bachelor/bachelorette if the rumor mill is true?”
“Married?” I rasp. “Excuse me?” I stare at her intensely, waiting for her to laugh and cop to the prank. And that’s when I see it. Sitting there on my finger. A sparkling oval diamond sitting atop a thin, yellow-gold band. It’s stunning. And heavy.
Before I can give it more thought, a tall woman with a giant black purse over her forearm approaches. “Charlotte Wu?” She extends her hand. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Ivory’s mom.”
I stare at her, blank-faced. I’ve never seen this woman in my life. “Ivory?”
“Ivory Eckhart? You’re her school counselor.”
I freeze entirely. A school counselor? For real?
When I don’t confirm nor deny, she plows forth, eyes darting to my bare feet. “It looks like you’re a bit busy, but I wanted to say how much Ivory has benefited from your help with her college applications.”
I’m going insane. Either that, or this is some Captain America shit. I went to sleep, somehow got lodged and preserved in the ice, and woke up a billion years later, only I’m not a mega-ripped supersoldier.
Then again, if this woman is telling the truth, I’ve achieved even more. I’m a school counselor. A good one, apparently.
I’m not entirely sure how to respond, given I have no idea who this Ivory person is, so I open my mouth as wide as possible, force a smile, and nod.
My Joker smile must scare her, because she takes a step back. “Oh, I hope you and J. T. have the best wedding day,” she says before heading down the aisle.
J. T.?
I blink. If falling off a ladder, hitting my head, and waking up thirteen years in the future isn’t traumatic enough, now I’m getting MARRIED? To Renner?
The photos of us plastered around the house cycle through my mind like a slideshow.
Sweet baby Jesus.
I’m marrying Joshua Taylor Renner.
I don’t know how this happened. But one thing is certain: I am officially in the pits of hell.
ELEVEN
This is a nightmare. I’m sure of it. There’s no way I time traveled. That’s absurd.
If this truly is a nightmare, I should be able to wake up. Delighted at the prospect, I slap myself hard across the cheek as I book it out of the pharmacy. Ouch. Maybe a measly slap won’t suffice.