“I thought he was one of the good ones.” Oona wept and wept, soaking Madeleine’s silk blouse. “I knew it wouldn’t last. But I hoped.” The words were muffled against her mother’s shoulder. “I thought I could change things. But it was all a lie.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“I…” But more sobs choked her, and her face twisted with anguish as she fought to catch her breath. All Madeleine could do was stroke small circles on her daughter’s back and murmur shushing sounds the way she did when Oona had nightmares in the year following her father’s death. After a minute, the cries ebbed into jerky breathing. “I—I need a tissue.”
“Let’s go inside.”
They settled on the sofa, Madeleine armed with a glass of water and pack of tissues.
Oona blew her nose and wiped her damp cheeks. “I just don’t get it. I couldn’t prevent it when I leaped backward, but I could have the year before that. Yet there was no warning in the letter I read before I met him. Why wouldn’t my earlier self try to stop me?” Why had 2002 Oona set her up like that?
“I’m sure she—you had your reasons. Maybe you believed the good parts of the year outweighed the bad.”
“No. No.” Fervent head-shaking.
“Look at it this way: whatever dreadful things happened, you won’t have to live through them again.”
“Or at all. Because it’s 1995, so it hasn’t happened yet.” A thought like a firecracker set off in a dark room, bright and dangerous. “Maybe my earlier self wouldn’t help me, but you could. If I tell you his name now, because I won’t meet him until…” 2003. The year dangled on her tongue, but she reeled it back in, uncertain. “You could warn me. Prevent the whole train wreck. If you knew his name, maybe…”
A grim heaviness weighed down Madeleine’s features. “This is one of your early leaps, isn’t it? How old are you on the inside?”
“I just turned twenty-three. If it’s 1995…” Oona flipped through a mental calendar. “I also just turned thirty-one. Ugh, this will never stop feeling fucked up.” The end table beside her collected more balled-up tissues. “How’d you know this was one of my early leaps?”
“Because a more mature you would never ask me to help you change your future. Though I wish I could spare you this pain.” Lips trembling, she pressed them into a line, blinked hard and asked, “Was he violent?”
A vehement no followed by a softer one. Fresh tears rolled down her face and she wiped them away. “He robbed me of … I just—want to undo the whole thing.”
Madeleine put a hand on her daughter’s arm in a gesture that said, Slow down, think this through. “You know I’m here to help you any way that I can, but even if you tell me his name, I won’t sabotage your relationship.”
That made one of them. Had Oona done the right thing sabotaging her mother’s relationship? Even if Nathan was a certified creep and Madeleine was funding his comfortable lifestyle, his presence brightened her life, brought a glimmer to her eyes that disappeared after being told it wouldn’t last.
“Honey, please take some time with this.”
Oona unclenched her fists, like she’d just put down a loaded gun. “You’re right. I don’t have to decide tonight.” She launched into a stream of grievances. “God, I thought last year was gonna be awesome, but it ended up so shitty. Not only with—him. I thought I’d finally begin my friendship with Kenzie—you don’t even know Kenzie yet—but we had one tense, weird night and then he took off. And you and me, we had the worst fight. It was awful. I never said sorry, because I wasn’t ready and—god, I was a chickenshit. I should’ve stepped up.” She clutched her chest; the pressure of thorny emotions festering within needed release. “I’m so sorry. Even though you already forgave me. I didn’t know what you were forgiving me for then, and now that I do, I can’t tell you what I’m apologizing for. I’m just very sorry,” Oona cried.
A flicker of fear swept away with a hurried smile. “My darling, if future me forgives you, so does present-day me.” She squeezed her daughter’s shoulder.
“I can’t fight with you like that again. You’re the only constant in my life.” Oona grabbed a cushion and held it over her stomach. “And you were right about him, too. Don’t you get tired being right about everything?” A single dejected chuckle.
“Of course I don’t. And I’ve been wrong my fair share of times. I was wrong earlier tonight, thinking I could doze off and wake up before midnight. It must’ve been frightening for you to come to like that, somewhere new, alone.”
“It’s always a little scary. And a little lonely.”
“Well, I’ll help make things less lonely.” Madeleine stood and walked over to a mini-fridge. “How about some champagne? You can never feel truly sad if you’re drinking champagne.”
“I don’t want any. I’m sorry.” The promise of a buzz was tempting, but it would lead to the bad kind of drunk, the dark, self-pitying kind. Her eyes roved the hut, landed on a windowsill lined with potted orchids. “So we’re in Vietnam, huh?”
“We’ve only been here a few days, but my goodness, it’s stunning.”
Could it be stunning enough to cool her volcanic fury? To say nothing of the queasy shame that she’d allowed herself to be suckered, so eager to love and be loved. She’d gotten it so wrong. If she’d known the truth about Edward and warned herself in time, 2004 could’ve been a happier year. It could’ve been spent with Peter.
The lost opportunity burned in her throat and instigated fresh tears.
Madeleine brought over two cans of soda and more tissues.
“I feel like I’m never gonna get it right.” The tinny pop of the soda can was a punctuation mark on Oona’s self-pity. “As much as I’ve tried to shape my life to have some coherence, every time I try to bond with someone, either I fail or they don’t stay—or I can’t stay, because of leaping. I guess I should get used to the idea it’ll usually be just me and you.”
“Not every year.” Madeleine bared her teeth, preparing to say something unpleasant but necessary. “Though some years, yes. It helps to look at it in the short term. Every year can be a tabula rasa, and once it’s over, you can begin again.”
“At square one.”
“Not necessarily.”
“That’s how it feels.” Oona put down her soda and twisted her hands in her lap. “Did I leave myself a letter?”
“No. This time it’s a present.” Madeleine handed her daughter a tiny crimson box.
Oona opened it and took out a platinum band made of two elongated wings. A small accompanying note in her handwriting read: Anger can be an energy. Don’t burn, soar. Squinting, she checked the ring again. It had the same design as the one Kenzie wore in her last leap. “Is there anything else? Any letter?”
“That’s it. Some years, you find letters unnecessary, especially as you get used to leaping.”
Oona put the ring on her left middle finger. “There’s no getting used to it. It’s the worst. The powerlessness of it.” She spat the words out, hot under her skin. How could she turn this anger into a fuel when all it wanted to do was incinerate her? “At least I’m far away. Maybe the distance will help.” Her words held little conviction. “You sure you don’t want to help change my future?”